


This Isn't a Love Story, John

by ultradaniblonde



Category: Archie Comics, Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Daddy Kink, Dark Humor, F/F, F/M, Fake Relationship, Love Confessions, Mild Smut, Possessive John Winchester, Protective John Winchester, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-19 17:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 29,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultradaniblonde/pseuds/ultradaniblonde
Summary: What happens when you convince John to pose as your boyfriend in order to solve a case and get you out of a dangerous situation?





	1. Chapter 1

The country club patio is blissfully quiet considering it is not “the season”. You and your mother sit in stony silence at a white linen table with a view of the golf course. Her perky pink cardigan is wrapped delicately around her bony tanned shoulders, large black sunglasses covering half of her face. You sit with your back straight, hands folded delicately in your lap. Your long sleeved black maxi dress a stark contrast to her bright sweater. Your blonde hair styled in beach waves, [collection of bangles and rings](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/242631498650459653/) and summer glow keep you from looking gothic, but it is obvious she disapproves.

“Veronica, your father is very disappointed in you,” she says between sips of chilled white wine.

You blink and before you can open your mouth she continues, “When the time comes, he expects you to accept David’s proposal and stop this ridiculous charade. You cannot keep insisting you are dating someone,” she says condescendingly.

“I am seeing someone, Mom,” you say wincing at how petulant you sound.

“Then where is he?” she asks waving her glass around.  “Ronnie, please stop this lunacy and accept that you and David will be married,” she says derisively.

You clench your jaw grateful the patio is empty. “Mother, I told you I am seeing someone and even if I wasn’t, I would never consider David’s marriage proposal. He is a rapist,” your gaze drilling into the wide rimmed sunglasses.

“I told you never to use that word again,” she snaps.

“Darling, is this because of what happened when you were sixteen? You know boys will be boys,” she says sweetly regaining her composure and finishing her drink. 

“Goodbye, Mother,” you say pushing yourself away from the table walking towards the exit. Your body is buzzing with anger. You remain poised and graceful evoking the years of etiquette school that have been drilled into your brain.  The valet brings your car around and you smile graciously.

 _Boys will be boys_ , you think to yourself grinding your teeth.

It is a long drive back to the city and the sun set hours ago. The tension in your body immediately subsides as you enter your one bedroom apartment. It is beautifully furnished in neutral tones, candles and cozy wool knit blankets.

You kick off your heels, your long black dress dragging on the floor. Your mother hates when you wear black which makes you love it even more. You always keep the rest of your appearance sunny and fresh to avoid looking like a member of the Addams family. _Imagine the horror,_ you think sarcastically envisioning yourself at the country club dressed like Wednesday Addams. No make it Morticia.

With a long sigh you grab your heels wondering what you are going to do about David. David and Ashley Lyding, son and daughter of Charles Lyding III. Your father’s oldest business partner and closest friend. You and David are the oldest and through the Fates cruel matchmaking your marriage is arranged. You lean back against the door, your stomach lurching as you remember the night you stumbled on David forcing himself on Ashley’s friend at a party. You were sixteen. When you told your mom she slapped you across the face. Don’t ever say that word again, she told you. Rapist. That is what he is and the power and privilege that come with being the sole male heir has not diminished his appetite for taking advantage of women.

Bile rises in your throat at the thought of marrying him.  As you gather the extra material of your skirt to keep from tripping, you hear a noise in the hall. You open the front door and peek out. You squint watching a man with dark hair and a salt and pepper beard standing suspiciously outside of Mr. and Mrs. Lamberti’s unit.

Ignoring every instinct, you walk barefoot down the hall heels in hand trying to figure out what he is doing. As you silently approach him you notice he is trying to pick the lock.

“What are you doing?” you ask shattering the silence.

He jumps startled by your voice. “Hey doll,” he says with an easy smile. His skin is tanned with smile lines around his dark brown eyes. “The management company received a call about this unit. Concerned kids worried about their elderly parents. The landlord sent me to check it out,” he says turning back towards the lock.

“No they didn’t,” you say in a firm tone.

“Listen…” he says with an exasperated expression. He is interrupted by the unmistakable feedback of a police radio.

“… Reports of a suspicious male in the building…” the receiver screeches.

“10-4. We will check it out,” a male cop responds. 

Your eyes widen as you turn back towards the stranger.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” he says calmly stuffing the lock picking tools into his coat. He is wearing a gray t-shirt, a plaid button down and a jacket.

“Follow me,” you tell him grabbing his hand.

You turn the corner just as the policemen enter the hallway. You walk quickly through the halls intent on looping back around and sneaking into your apartment unnoticed.

As you are about to re-enter your hallway you hear, “Neighbors described the suspect as a male mid to late thirties, black hair, salt and pepper beard with a plaid button down and tan overcoat,” the walkie-talkie screeches.

You stare at his dark brown eyes. “Do you trust me?” you ask.

“Not even a little,” he answers scowling.

You leap into his arms grateful he has fast reflexes and you don’t land on the floor.

“What an amazing party!” you say your arm wrapped around his shoulder as he stands in the hall holding you bridal style. “I can’t remember the last time I danced so much. Thank you so much for pulling the car around and carrying me upstairs. You are so thoughtful…” you say trailing off.

The officers pause halfway down the hall and turn towards you. “Oh! Good Evening!” you say sweetly fluttering your eyelashes.

“Ready for bed?” you say melodiously turning your attention back to the unknown man running your finger along his jaw.

“Miss Lodge a neighbor reported seeing this man acting suspiciously,” the younger officer says uncertainly.

“Suspiciously?” you laugh dismissively. “This is my boyfriend,” you say haughtily. You cling to his neck as he practically drops you. _Too much Ronnie,_ you think to yourself.

“Now if you will excuse us we will be turning in for the night,” you say with an innocent smile.

The unlocked door opens easily as you are carried over the threshold and unceremoniously dropped to your feet.


	2. Chapter 2

“What the hell was that?” he asks angrily.

“Lower your voice!” you scold locking the door looking out the peephole watching the policemen walk towards the elevator bank.

“I could have just gone down the stairs!” he says. 

“Well they have a pretty accurate description of you!” you bite back. 

As you watch the police officers walk into the elevator you turn and face the stranger.

“I am Veronica,” you say your eyes gleaming mischievously.

“I am leaving,” he says walking towards the door.

“Wait!” you say arms extended. “Just. Wait,” you say slowly, blocking the door. “What were you doing outside of Mr. and Mrs. Lamberti’s apartment?” you ask your brow furrowed.

“None of your business,” he says taking an intimidating step towards you.

“Bullshit. They are nice people and if something is wrong I want to know,” you say crossing your arms over your chest. “They don’t have any kids. I check in on them sometimes. Are they in trouble? Do they owe you money? I can pay whatever they owe,” you say glaring at him. 

“They are dead,” he says coldly. 

Your stomach plummets as you stare at him. “No,” you whisper shaking your head. 

“I am sorry,” he says shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

“How do you know?” you ask.

“The smell. You don’t smell it?” he says.

“I was gone all day. Maybe they just need to take the trash out… or they have a dog maybe the dog made a mess in the apartment …” you begin rambling.

“Doubtful,” he says giving you a pitiful look.

“You don’t know for sure though!” you say grasping for straws.

“No. I didn’t see their bodies. I was interrupted by some child bride black widow who snuck up on me while I was trying to get inside!” he says angrily.

“You are just mad I caught you,” you say pacing around the kitchen opening drawers. “I have a key somewhere,” you say shuffling through papers. “Here it is!” you say pulling out a single key.

“No lock pick needed then,” he says reaching to grab the key.

You pull it away from him. “I am not letting you go in there alone! You will scare them to death!” you say in a rebuking tone. “I will be right back,” you tell him disappearing for just a second to pull on a pair of short brown studded motorcycle boots.

“Let’s go,” you say yanking the door open.

“Mrs. Lamberti?” you say while knocking on the door. “It’s me Ronnie,” you shout melodiously slowly easing the door open.

The smell hits you and suddenly you are gagging into you elbow bent over. It assaults your nostrils turning your stomach as you struggle to breathe.

“Wait here,” he says, as you stand crouched over in the entryway.

He is back moments later shaking his head. “I want to see them,” you say side stepping him.

“No,” he says resolutely.

“I want to see them,” you insist shaking him off.

You continue coughing into the sleeve of your dress while your eyes water. As you step silently into their bedroom you see Mr. and Mrs. Lamberti lying in bed with their chest cavities completely ripped open. Shreds of organ, tissue, muscle and skin hang off bone and are splattered across the wall.

Nausea hits you and suddenly you are dizzy being dragged into blackness. For the second time tonight the stranger hoists you up carrying you out of the apartment careful not to leave a trace.

Back in your apartment you stumble to the guest bathroom releasing the contents of your stomach. Once your stomach is empty, you scrub your mouth with your toothbrush and grab a wool blanket wrapping it around your shoulders.

You sit on the couch pulling your legs to your chest staring at the wall blankly.

“Who did that to them?” you ask softly. 

“I don’t know yet,” he says standing in the center of your apartment feeling out of place in the cozy décor. 

“How could someone do something like that?” you ask him horrified at the carnage. 

“Damnit. I didn’t want to do this. Monsters are real. I don’t mean serial killers and psychopaths. I mean witches, vampires, ghouls and werewolves. There are men like me who hunt them. My name is John Winchester,” he says staring at you. 

You swallow processing what he has told you. Seconds turn into minutes. “And you don’t know what did this?” you ask uncertainly.

“My guess is a witch. Physical proximity is usually important in these kinds of rituals. I need to do more digging, but I have already been made. I could send Dean…” he says pacing your apartment anxious to keep working.

“You could stay…” you say absentmindedly. 

“If you are worried about your safety…” he starts.

“It isn’t that,” you interrupt. “The police have your description and one of my neighbors is already suspicious. You can’t skip town because you need to find the killer. Stay and pretend to be my boyfriend. Ride out the lie. You will need access to this building. What better way to gain access then by living here?” you ask.

“No. It is a bad plan,” John says firmly.

“Why? What’s so wrong with it?” you ask defensively.

“I am old enough to be your dad,” he says.

“Easy. Daddy kink. What else?” you ask.

He gives you a confused expression “What the fuck is …” he shakes his head figuring he is better off not knowing. “How come nobody has seen me before?” he asks.

“You travel a lot for work which I am guessing is not entirely a lie. What else?” you ask.

He doesn’t respond.

“What if you get hurt?” he asks his eyes boring into yours.

“That could happen either way. You don’t like this plan because you didn’t think of it! It is the best option. I already told the cops you are my boyfriend. Nobody will suspect a friendly new tenant asking questions to get to know people better. You might even be able to do some B&E while my neighbors are gone,” you say directly.

His eyes narrow as he cocks his head to the side, “What is in it for you?” he asks taking a step closer. 

 _Overplaying your hand Ronnie,_ you scold yourself _._ “I want the killer found. Mr. and Mrs. Lamberti didn’t deserve to die like that,” you say staring blankly at him. 

“What else?” he barks crossing his arms over his chest.

You stand shedding the blanket, pacing the apartment before releasing an anxious breath. “I am supposed to marry my dad’s business partner’s son,” you say seriously.

“Oh no. I am out. I am not getting involved,” John says turning walking towards the door.

“David is a rapist,” you say. John pauses turning towards you. “My parents know and they don’t care. I won’t marry him. I will do whatever it takes John,” you say firmly, glaring at him.

“I can’t be your pretend boyfriend forever,” he says looking at you.

“He is ready to pop the question any minute. This will buy me a few weeks to figure something out,” you say your eyes drilling into his.

“Damnit!” John says clenching his jaw.


	3. Chapter 3

You walk to the refrigerator and pull out two beers. “You will need to check out of whatever motel you are staying at,” you say twisting the top off and handing it to him.

“I hadn’t gotten a room yet,” he says before taking a swig.

“Perfect. We can grab your stuff from your truck,” you say taking a long sip.

“Why do you assume I drive a truck?” he says scowling at you.

“What kind of car do you drive?” you ask.

“A truck,” he responds.

You roll your eyes.

“I will go with you to get it. You have already attracted unwanted attention, let’s not make it a second go with the cops,” you say condescendingly.

“You know, I do know what I am doing,” he says angrily.

“Is that way I was able to sneak up on you? In my child bride black widow dress?” you say testily.

He rolls his eyes annoyed.  

“Have you eaten? Once we grab your stuff, I can cook us dinner and we can start figuring this out,” you say with a resigned expression. 

“Food would be good,” he says shrugging his shoulders. 

“Alright. Let’s go grab your stuff, roomy,” you say with a wink.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he drove a truck. A black monster truck sits in a guest parking spot. Your petite frame would need a stepladder to get inside. You stare at the truck, “Seriously?” you ask.

He ignores you and you smile and shake your head grabbing the bag he hands you.

It is heavy and digs into your shoulder. “I can take that,” he says reaching for the bag.

“I got it,” you say pressing the button to call the elevator. 

You drop his bag on the living room floor.

“There is a guest bathroom with a shower and clean towels if you want to freshen up. I am going to go change and see what I can scrounge up for dinner,” you say walking towards your room. You change into a pair of oversized ripped denim jeans and a black three quarter length shirt. You wipe off your makeup but keep your jewelry on.

You open the refrigerator and search through cabinets looking at a mix of ingredients that don’t quite add up to a meal you think John would eat. 

John emerges from the bathroom in a fresh shirt and jeans.

“Pizza or Chinese?” you ask.

“I thought you were cooking,” he says with a confused expression.

“Trying to keep me in the kitchen already?” you ask teasing him. “I pretty much only have ingredients for chicken piccata and you don’t seem like a capers type of guy,” you say.

“I like chicken piccata,” he says drying his hair. “Unless you don’t want to cook. I know it’s late,” he says backtracking.

“I don’t mind,” you say pulling ingredients from the pantry.

“Another beer?” you ask motioning to his empty bottle.

“Sure,” he says as you grab two more beers from the fridge setting them on the counter.

He opens yours first and sets it near you.

“So for this to work, we need to get to know each other better,” you say while butterflying chicken avoiding his gaze. “Do you want to eat first or do you want to chat while I cook?” you ask reaching for a pot to boil water.

“Are you always this bossy?” he asks. 

You turn cocking your head slightly immediately riled up. A tiny smile tugs at his mouth as he raises the bottle to his lips and takes a long sip.

“I guess that’s a start. Yes, I am always this bossy all the time,” you say setting the pot down in the sink filing it with water.

“I am not exactly getting the free and easy vibe from you John,” you say crossing your arms over your chest.  

“Not a lot of room for error in my line of work,” he says walking over and lifting the heavy pot from the sink.

“Fair enough,” you respond turning the burner on as he sets the heavy pot onto the stove.

The next hour passes with relative ease. You cook while John asks you questions about your life. Where were you born? Texas. Where did you go to school? New York. What do you do for a living? Business Owner. Who are your best friends? Mostly college friends who live in different states. Do you have siblings? One.

You pull two clean plates from the dishwasher and serve generous portions of chicken and pasta. As you turn to grab two more beers he grabs the plates and asks “Couch or table?” gesturing to your living room.

“Couch,” you say grabbing silverware and napkins. With the basic facts of your life covered you move to his. A half a dozen questions and you have a rough idea of who John is: marine, father, widower, hunter.   

As you set your dirty plate on the table press your lips together in a thin line.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Scheming face,” you answer.

“What?” he says. 

“This is going to be harder than I thought,” you say rubbing your forehead.

“Thinking of dumping me already?” he asks picking up your plate carrying it to the sink.

You give him a worried smirk.

“Stick to the truth when you can. You don’t want to marry this David guy, right?” he asks.

“No,” you say firmly.  

“Do you think this will help?” he asks leaning against the kitchen counter.

“It will give me time to figure something else out,” you respond earnestly. “David is pretty close to proposing. Any day now according to my Mom,” you say crossing your arms over your chest.

“You will think of something,” he tells you.

“Come on. Let’s go figure out where you are going to sleep,” you say motioning for him to follow you.

“Clothes and toiletries need to be in the bathroom in case my mom stops by unannounced. I have plenty of blankets and extra pillows. I will take the sofa and you can have the bed,” you say grabbing stacks of pillows and cases.

“Absolutely not,” he says sternly.

“John you are like a foot and a half taller than I am. You are not going to be comfortable on that couch,” you tell him.

“Not happening,” he says taking the pillows from your arms.

“Alright. Don’t come crying to me when your back hurts old man,” you say.

He throws his head back and laughs and you break into a grin. “I’ll remember that,” he says pointing his finger at you.

You change into your pajamas and get ready for bed. You poke your head out the door.

“John?” you whisper.

“Hmm?” he asks.

“Do you need anything?” you say uncertainly.

“I’m good doll,” he says.

“Goodnight,” you say before closing the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Sunlight shines through the window straight into John’s face.

“Morning!” you say obnoxiously closing the door to your bedroom behind you. You walk into the living room wearing the same high-waisted jean shorts, black ankle boots, a gray t-shirt and an oversized sweater. Your hair is swept back in a low bun and you are carrying an enormous purse.

John groans with one eye open looking around the room. “Not a morning person, huh?” you say staring down at him. You clutch your coffee mug bangles and rings jingling.

“There is more coffee brewing. I put my phone number in yours so you can text me. Make yourself at home. There is a condo happy hour tonight. By then, I think the police will have discovered Mr. and Mrs. Lamberti. It will be the perfect opportunity to gauge people’s reactions and our first attempt at convincing people we are a couple,” you say succinctly.

John continues to look around the room the thick wool blanket pulled midway up his chest.

When he doesn’t answer you yell “John! What’s wrong? Are you having a stroke?” mockingly.

“Anyone ever tell you that you are very persistent?” he mumbles shielding his eyes from the sun squinting at you.

“All the damn time,” you answer smiling.

“See you later darling!” you shout as you close the door locking it behind you leaving John wondering who was in the hallway.

You pull up to you the parking lot and unlock the front door. You disable the alarm, start a pot of coffee and get the registers up and running. Minutes later Sophia, your best employee shows up.

“Hey Boss,” she says cheerfully.

“Morning! How’s it going?” you ask.

“So far so good! Busy day you think?” she asks.

“Might be. We got a shipment so I will be in the back most of the day. Please take care of the front. Make sure you circulate and ask people if they need help,” you tell her.

“I got you,” she says with a smile.

“Thank you,” you say trusting her implicitly.

You set your bag down and remove your oversized sweater. You sit on the floor with a box cutter setting yourself to the task of carefully opening boxes of newly shipped novels. A few hours later you hear your phone buzz.

J: Police are outside of your unit. They are knocking on the Lamberti’s door.

V: Stay in the apartment. We will talk to people at the happy hour tonight.

J: I know what I am doing.

V: John. No.

J: See you in a few hours doll.

With an exasperated sigh you continue unpacking the boxes and the marketing materials the publisher sent. You walk towards the front of the store and find Sophia helping a young woman select a number of books.

You mentally envision where the new display will go while Sophia rings the woman up and she leaves with two large shopping bags.

“Nice job,” you tell her.

“She’s trying to get her son to read more,” Sophia adds. “I don’t get it. When I was that age you couldn’t pry a book away from my hands,” she says.

“Some people are just like that,” you say unwilling to share that at that age your parents couldn’t pay you to read a book. It was only after … that you fell in love with reading. An escape from a reality you couldn’t face.

“Come on, let’s close up early,” you tell her just as the bell softly chimes.

 _Damn_ , you curse under your breath. You turn around and find John walking towards you. He is wearing a fitted black t-shirt, loose black cardigan and glasses. You stifle a laugh as you watch Sophia eye him greedily.

“Hey doll,” he says leaning in giving you a kiss on your cheek.

“What are you doing here?” you ask bluntly.

“I thought I would come get you so we can go to that happy hour,” he says innocently.

“So that’s why we are closing up early?” Sophia says grinning at you.

“Sophia this is John. John this is Sophia,” you say as John shakes her hand.

“It is a pleasure, Sophia” he says with a dazzling smile.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Sophia can you lock up and count the register? I doubt anyone else is going to come in fifteen minutes till close,” you say accusatorily.

“Sure thing,” she says happily.

“John,” you say resting your hand on his arm. “I am going to go grab my purse. I will be right back,” you tell him.

“I’ll be here,” he says with a wink.

 _What an idiot_ , you think to yourself. You slide your sweater on and grab your purse.

Sophia locks the doors as you and John leave. John opens the door to his monster truck and helps you in before closing the door.

As soon as he closes the driver side door you ask, “Did you stay in the apartment?” eyeing him.

“I am not an idiot,” he responds.

“That isn’t an answer,” you retort.

“I did not in fact stay in the apartment. I stood around with your other neighbors scratching my head as if clueless making concerned facial expressions,” he says shortly. “Happy?” he asks.

“You could have just said that the first time,” you mumble.

“Damn doll, we are going to have no trouble convincing people we are together if you keep nagging me like this,” he says pulling out of the parking lot.

Minutes later you arrive at your condominium. John opens the passenger door and helps you down.

“What is it?” he asks as you walk in silence towards the elevator bank.

“Nothing,” you respond shortly.

“Come on. It’s never nothing,” John says leaning his arm against the wall.

The elevator opens and you walk inside. “It’s … nothing,” you say discouraged punching the button. _This isn’t going to work. I can’t marry David. I would rather die_ , you think to yourself.

John tilts your head up towards his face. “You will figure it out doll,” he says staring into your eyes.

The elevator door opens and your neighbors’ first impression of John is him staring lovingly into your eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

The elevator chime pulls you back to reality.

John rests his hand on your back letting you lead the way. You immediately recognize Carol, the event organizer and walk towards her.

“Hi Carol,” you say giving her a half hug.

“Ronnie, so good to see you,” she says squeezing your hand. “Did you hear about the Lamberti’s?” she asks gazing at you tearfully.

“I did,” you say with a sad expression. “I was at work, but John texted me that the police were here,” you say putting your arm around John.

“John this is Carol. Carol this is my boyfriend, John,” you tell her.

He shakes her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you Carol. I wish my arrival had been under more pleasant circumstances,” he says politely.

“John travels for work,” you interject.

“Well I hope you enjoy the happy hour. To be honest, I was going to cancel it, but it feels like more than ever we should come together,” she says sincerely. You squeeze her hand again as someone from across the room waves her over.

John puts his arm around your shoulder. “Drink?” he asks.

“Please,” you say sadly.

Seeing your neighbors chatting together makes the Lamberti’s absence more pronounced. Everyone loved them. John leaves your side heading towards a table with drinks. You watch him shake hands with a young man standing beside the bar before grabbing you a beer and walking back to you. Just as he returns more neighbors walk up to you.

“Veronica, I am so sorry to hear about the Lamberti’s,” a brunette says clasping her small plastic cup of wine. “I know you were very close,” she says giving you a concerned expression.

“We were. Thank you,” you say shortly. The brunette woman and her husband stand waiting for an introduction. “Oh! Sorry Lori, this is my boyfriend John. John this is Lori and her husband Steve,” you say introducing everyone. _Get it together Ronnie_ , you scold yourself.

“Nice to meet you John,” Steve says shaking John’s hand.  “Didn’t know Ronnie had a boyfriend,” he says casually.

Before you can open your mouth, John interjects, “I travel a lot, but Ronnie and I make it work,” he says giving you a wink.

 A half-smile pulls at your lips. He is so good at lying. “What do you do?” Steve asks.

“Security” “Consulting”

You and John say at the same time.

John puts his hand around your waist lovingly giving your side a squeeze reminding you to play it cool.

“I am a security consultant. We met while I was checking out the security at the bookstore,” he says confidently.

“That is so sweet,” Lori croons.

“Isn’t it?” you say cloyingly.

John sensing your unease shifts the conversation. “This Lamberti thing has been really hard on Ronnie,” he says kissing the side of your head.

“I am pretty rattled myself,” Steve says. “Mr. Lamberti and I were partners. We opened the art gallery together,” he says shaking his head.

“You don’t say,” John says his eyes squinting suspiciously at Steve.

“How’s the security at the gallery? If you don’t mind me asking,” John asks in nonthreatening tone.

“To be honest, I am not really sure. Our manager and Mr. Lamberti set it up. I am mostly in charge of purchasing…” Steve trails off. “Hey! Maybe if you don’t mind, you could swing by and check it out. If you are in town for a few days,” Steve says glancing between you and John.

“That’s a great idea. John would be happy to stop by the gallery. Maybe tomorrow?” you tell Steve resisting the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Tomorrow works!” he says excitedly.

You and John continue to circulate amongst your neighbors. At some point you make the switch from beer to vodka soda and let John do most of the talking. You become bored of the same empty words …horrible what happened to the Lamberti’s .. shocked something happen so close to home … didn’t know you have a boyfriend.

John glances at you out of the corner of his eyes and notices you swaying slightly. He finishes his conversation with a couple you don’t even know and then guides you towards the elevator. “Time to go,” he says gently pushing you towards the elevator door.

You walk to your unit unsteadily and fumble with the keys.

“Damnit doll…” he mutters under his breath taking the keys from you and opening the door.

“Are you drunk?” he asks as soon as you enter your apartment.

You sit on the couch with your eyes closed hoping the room will stop spinning. “I may not have eaten today,” you say slowly.

He sighs setting your keys on the counter. “Pizza or Chinese?” he asks searching through your kitchen drawers for takeout menus.

“Pizza. Please,” you slur.

Minutes later you hear John on the phone ordering a large pizza and cheese sticks. _God bless that man_ , you think to yourself. He sets a bottle of water next to you. You squint at it and he rolls his eyes, twisting off the cap before handing it to you. You take a sip of cold water and clear your throat. “Did you find the killer?” you ask sincerely.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he says sitting on the couch.

“What did you find out?” you ask innocently before sliding your shoes off lying across the sofa with your head in his lap.

“You weren’t kidding when you said Mr. and Mrs. Lamberti were well liked. They were partners with almost half a dozen business owners. Money is a pretty strong motive when it comes to murder. I have appointments with most of them to inspect their security. Staying was a good idea…” he says trailing off.

You stare blankly at the wall. Despite the liquor you feel the dull ache of loss. You close your eyes tightly as tears slip out.

“Did Mr. and Mrs. Lamberti help you with the bookstore?” John asks warily.

“No,” you say with a half-smile. “They wanted to, but I didn’t need the money. For me they were the grandparents I never had. Maybe even the parents I never had. The first time someone told me I could be anything I wanted, do anything I wanted was when Mrs. Lamberti stopped by with cookies to welcome me to the building. In the beginning things at the bookstore were rough, but Mr. Lamberti used to tell me chin up or the crown slips,” you say wiping at your eyes.

You sit up wiping your cheeks. “Let me guess, you didn’t sign up for drunk tears, right?” you smile laughing softly.

“I have to admit drunk tears are not in my skill set,” he says giving you a smile.

“Well at least we got that out of the way early right?” you say wiping your cheeks. 

 As you stand to find a tissue, John grabs your hand. “Finding monsters is my skill set. I will find out who did this,” he says assuredly.

 You look into his eyes nodding. “Thank you” you say softly.


	6. Chapter 6

You wake up the next morning with a pounding headache. Your mouth tastes like pizza and you squint your eyes trying to remember if you brushed your teeth. Completely disgusted you drag yourself to the shower. The cold water helps wake you up as you wash your hair and scrub your mouth. You tuck your [forest green short sleeve button down](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/242631498661274674/) into your high waisted jeans and slide on caramel wedge boots. After twisting your hair into a low messy bun so it doesn’t drip all over your shirt, you open the door slowly unsure whether John is awake. You find him pouring coffee into a mug.

“Morning,” you say cheerily, pretending you didn’t spend part of the night crying in his lap.

“Morning,” he answers handing you a coffee mug. “Your car is still at the bookstore. I will drop you off before I head over to the gallery,” he says.

“I forgot about the gallery,” you respond sipping the coffee and then leaning over the counter to grab more milk. “Is that going to be an issue?” you ask stirring more milk into your coffee.

“Shouldn’t be. Sam, Dean and I have certainly broken into enough places. I have seen plenty of security systems to bullshit my way through it,” he says taking a sip from his own mug.

“You never told me their names,” you say softly.

“Oh. Yeah. Sam and Dean,” he says looking down at the counter avoiding your gaze.

“Not even going to ask how old they are…” you say smiling shaking your head.

“Best if you don’t,” he says flashing you a cocky grin.

You finish your coffee and gently place the mug in the sink. “Thank you Daddy,” you say teasing him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he says tossing his head back laughing.

You wrap your arms around his chest smiling up at him. “Seriously. Thank you,” you say sincerely.

He sighs. “Come on. We are going to be late,” he says ushering you out of the house.

You walk in and find the bookstore already open. Alarm disabled, registers up and running and coffee brewing.

“How’s my favorite employee?” you ask smiling at Sophia.

“Can I get that on record?” she says sarcastically.

“I will put it in your file,” you say winking at her hoisting yourself onto the counter.

“Good Morning John” Sophia says in a singsong voice.

“Good Morning,” John responds with a smile.

He takes a step closer to you, “Do you think you could show me the backroom?” he whispers.

“John Winchester,” you joke pretending to be scandalized.

“Veronica,” he says seriously.

“What is it?” you ask in a worried tone.

“What kind of security do you have here?” John asks glancing around the bookstore.

“We don’t really specialize in collectibles or rare texts so all we have is the alarm and a safe,” you say with a concerned expression.

“Show me around. Come on,” he says helping you off the counter.

“Sophia, I will be right back, okay?” you say suddenly worried for her safety.

“Okay,” she answers. “Oh boss. Your mom called yesterday while I was counting the register. She asked for you. I told her we closed early so you and John could head out,” she says nonchalantly.

 _Fuck_ , you think to yourself. You were hoping to have more time before introducing John to your parents. John takes a look around mentally noting every exit and window. He says nothing before kissing you on the forehead and heading towards the door.

“You are so lucky,” Sophia says sighing watching him walk away. The phone rings saving you from explaining how truly fucked up your life is at the moment.

“Veronica’s Books” you answer.

“Hi Ronnie,” a voice purrs at the other end of the line.

“Hi Mom,” you say rolling your eyes.

“I called yesterday…” she says letting the statement hang between the two of you.

“Yeah. I just got into the store. Sophia gave me the message,” you say directly.

“She mentioned you were with a John?” your mom asks.

You close your eyes. _Please baby Jesus give me strength_ , you think to yourself. “Yup. John is my boyfriend. He is in town,” you say shortly.

“Your father and I would love to meet him. Why don’t we have dinner tonight?” she says condescendingly.

Just as you are about to tell her tonight isn’t convenient you realize she doesn’t believe you. “Okay, but you will have to drive to the city. John works tomorrow and I can’t leave the bookstore,” you say shaking your head at Sophia letting her know you would totally leave her in charge.

“Splendid. 8:00 PM. Vincitori,” she says.

“See you then,” you say slamming the phone down resting your head on the counter.

“Sophia, I am going to head to the back and do some bookkeeping, okay?” you tell her.

“Sounds good,” she responds.

“Come get me if you need anything. I mean it,” you tell her.

“Got it,” she says with a reassuring smile.

You spend three hours reconciling the accounts. Even with the addition of Sophia the bookstore has been turning a significant profit. She is a fantastic sales woman. You mull over giving her a raise when your phone vibrates.

J: How’s work?

V: Not bad. How’s the gallery?

J: Good. Just finished up. Steve and I are going to lunch.

You stare at the message. John Winchester doesn’t really seem like the lunch-with-the-guys kind of guy. He must be digging for more information.

V: That’s good

V: Do you own a suit?

J: Yes. Why?

V: Dinner with my parents tonight. 8PM.

J: Okay. See you at home.

You take a break and order lunch for you and Sophia and spend the rest of the day setting up the display for the new shipment you received yesterday.

As you drive home your stomach does nervous cartwheels thinking about dinner with your parents.

You walk into the apartment and notice John isn’t there. Checking the time, you shower, pull your hair into a messy bun and pick a fitted maroon long sleeve maxi dress with black heels. Just as you are you are finishing your winged eyeliner and putting on the last of your rings and bracelets you hear John return.

“Hey,” you say as you walk into the kitchen.

His hair is neatly combed to the side. His salt and pepper beard is trimmed and he is wearing a fitted black suit with a white shirt, the top button undone.

“I was just grabbing some stuff. I hope we aren’t running late,” he says.

“We are fine,” you say turning to grab your clutch.

“You know I am not going to take any shit from your parents, right?” he says gruffly.

You stand straight, shoulders back turning to face him.

“Listen. When you are hunting whatever it is that killed the Lamberti’s we do it your way, but when we are dealing with my fucked up shit, we do it my way. So yes, John, you are going to take shit from my parents and guess what, I will too. Do you know why? Because this isn’t some country western where you come in guns blazing and defend my honor. I have to live with the consequences of whatever happens tonight and I can’t sit there drinking wine thinking about what happens if we fuck this up. I can’t eat linguini and make conversation remembering how it feels to have that piece of shit touch me. So you are going to take it and so am I, because the only thing we need to do tonight, the only thing that matters is convincing my parents that we are crazy for each other and maybe just maybe if we are lucky it will stall whatever that fuck face has planned. Got it?” you finish angrily.

John stares at you for a few minutes as your heart pounds in your chest.

The laugh lines crinkle around his eyes as he says, “Damn you really do wear the crown don’t you?” with a huge grin.

You feel your heart return to a normal rhythm.

“Only when I have to,” you say taking a deep breath.

“No doll, you wear it every day” John says tilting your chin up towards him giving you a wink.

You give him a worried look as head for the door.


	7. Chapter 7

You and John flag down a taxi and in a few short minutes arrive at a fancy Italian restaurant. The valet attendant opens the door for you and John is at your side extending his hand towards you to help you out of the car. He fixes his jacket as you rest your hand gently on his arm.

“Chin up doll,” he whispers nuzzling the side of your head.

“Or the crown slips,” you respond smiling at him.

You pull your shoulders back invoking the countless hours of your childhood spent pacing the living room with a stack of books on your head. Your winged eyeliner and collection of bracelets and rings feels like the only armor you have against your parents. You walk into the restaurant and find your parents seated at their usual table. Your mother leans over to whisper something to your dad as soon as she sees you enter. You take a deep breath walking towards her. You greet your parents giving them each a kiss on the cheek.

“Mom. Dad. This is John,” you say as John stands his arm resting casually on your lower back. “Thank you for the invitation,” he says politely shaking your dad’s hand and then your mom’s.

“It is nice to finally meet you John,” your mom says skeptically. 

John helps you into your chair before taking his seat. Seconds later, the waiter is at the table taking your drink order. You want nothing more than to grip John’s hand to keep from screaming, but instead you order a glass of merlot and fold your hands gracefully on the table. 

“How’s business honey?” your Dad asks. 

You look at him startled. Despite owning your own business, your Dad has never asked about it or shown any interest.

“Business is great. My new employee, Sophia, is wonderful. Trustworthy, knowledgeable, competent,” you say making a mental note to finalize her raise.

“That’s wonderful darling,” your mother says. “That means you can leave her in charge when you attend the yearly family reunion,” she says.

 _Classic setup_ , you think to yourself. Your fingers freeze midway to your merlot glass, but you recover quickly scooping it up smoothly. 

“I don’t think …” you begin.

“What family reunion is this doll?” John interrupts with feigned interest.

“Every year the Lodge’s and Lyding’s gather for a family reunion at the lake house,” your Dad explains proudly.

“I am surprised you never mentioned it,” John says with a smile.

“It must have slipped my mind,” you say superficially smiling at him.

“It probably slipped her mind because she hasn’t been in years,” your mother interjects.

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving the bookstore unattended…” you begin to say.

“Yes, but now you have this Cynthia. I am sure she can watch your little store for a few days,” your mother says dismissively. 

You press your lips into a thin line as your mother turns her attention to John. “And will you still be in town?” she asks shamelessly. 

You clench your jaw.

“I have a few jobs scheduled here in the city,” John says avoiding the question, putting his arm around the back of your chair reassuringly. 

“And what is it you do, John?” your dad asks.

“I am a security consultant,” John says easily.

“Interesting. Perhaps Lodge and Lyding Enterprises could use your services,” your Dad says.

Your heart starts beating wildly in your chest. “I would be happy to help. I can give you my business card after dinner,” John says staring intensely at your dad.

You practically throw yourself at the waiter’s feet when he comes by and asks if you would like to hear the specials.  While he recites what seems like half the menu, John rubs the back of your neck in soothing circles. 

You turn and smile at him.

You order the penne and are surprised when John orders the chicken piccata. You share a brief smile before your mother launches into another ambush.

“John, I must admit you are older than we expected,” she says brazenly.

The generous glass of merlot and the tension has you near hysterics. How do you even respond to such a rude comment?  _Daddy Kink? At least I am not a rapist_? _You didn’t think I even existed_ , you think to yourself stifling a laugh. 

“What’s so funny doll?” John smirks tossing back a sip of beer.

Your face blushes brightly. “Nothing,” you say giggling. “I guess you could say we kind of just stumbled upon one another,” you tell your mom.

“Ronnie was definitely an unexpected surprise. Fell into my arms really,” John says gazing at you. You shake your head in disbelief amazed at how skilled John is at lying. _Stick to the truth whenever possible_ , you think to yourself.

“Do you have kids?” your mom asks bursting the bubble of hilarity.

You reach for your water taking a long sip composing yourself. 

“I do. Two boys. Sam and Dean,” John says truthfully.  “They are a handful, but you know. Boys will be boys,” he says staring at your mom. 

Your mom’s eyes narrow distrustfully at John and you desperately change the subject.

“Will Valerie be at the family reunion this year?” you ask innocently.

Your mom turns and looks at you as if you are the town idiot. “Valerie has decided to ruin her life by continuing that silly Teach for America program,” your mother says unkindly reaching for her drink. “She is such a disappointment. Ungrateful girl,” you mother mutters.

You feel a pang of sadness and anger. Valerie, your generous kindhearted baby sister couldn’t stay once she discovered how your manipulative your parents were. She ran away and joined Teach for America leaving you to shoulder the burden of their obsession with preserving their legacy. _At least one of us got out_ , you think to yourself sadly.

During the lull in conversation, the waiter returns with your entrees. You unconsciously straighten the utensils before daintily taking a few bites of your pasta. The conversation dies down as your father eats his steak with gusto and your mother continues sipping her wine still obviously irritated with Valerie’s life choices.

As you lift a forkful of pasta towards your mouth your mother says, “Ronnie, really please tell me you aren’t going to eat that entire plate,” she scolds.

John wipes his mouth and sets his fork down loudly. You pull your shoulders back plastering a smile on your face. “Of course not Mother. I can’t imagine eating another bite,” you say lightly, setting the utensils on the side of your plate signaling to the waiter you are finished. 

“Good,” your mother says tersely. 

You see John’s hand on the table and you place your hand on his. He clasps your fingers gently and brings your hand to his lips giving the back of your hand an affectionate kiss. The waiter returns to clear the plates and asks if anyone wants dessert. Your mother shakes her head and says “Absolutely not,” smiling flirtatiously at the waiter.

“Ronnie and I have our own dessert plans,” John says drinking in your face rubbing his thumb possessively over your bottom lip.

You blush and look down at the table as you hear your mother choke on her wine. Luckily your Dad was too busy looking for his wallet to hear. “Well I never…” she mutters as she clears her throat. 

You shake your head in disbelief smiling at his shamelessness. Your dad pays the bill and stands not even bothering to ask if everyone is ready to leave. As you stand in the entryway thanking your parents for dinner, John reaches in his coat pocket and pulls out a business card. 

“My card,” he says handing it to your dad reminding him of their earlier discussion. Your dad pockets the card just as the valet pulls their car around the front.

“Bye Mom. Bye Dad,” you say neutrally. As soon as they are walking towards their car you turn to John. 

“What was that?” you ask laughing grabbing the front of his coat.

“What?” he asks naively. 

“Our own dessert plans?” you say throwing your head back laughing. 

“Well we do,” he says grinning at you.

“And what would that be?” you ask curiously.

“You barely ate. We are definitely getting dessert,” he says assuredly.

The valet calls you a car and you make a pit stop at the corner store to buy a gallon of ice cream. John locks the apartment door as you slip off your heels and spread your dress on the sofa.

“Do you think they believed us?” you ask with a worried expression.

“I know they did,” he says pulling the ice cream out of the brown paper bag and rummaging in the kitchen drawers for spoons.

“How?” you ask.

He walks over to the couch slipping off his shoes. “Does your mom usually get on you about eating?” he asks.

“What? No. I mean she used to all the time, but not lately,” you say confused.

“She was pissed about something and when she lashed out at you about your dinner … that was her slipping,” he says stabbing at the ice cream with a spoon.

“I hope so,” you say as your stomach rumbles and you greedily dig your spoon into the ice cream.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning you wake up to the smell of coffee brewing. With a sigh you remember dinner last night with your parents and lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Deciding this shit storm isn’t going to fix itself, you haul yourself out of bed. You throw on a pair of [wide leg black pants](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/242631498662831753/), pointy flats and a short black cropped sweater complete with your rings and bangles. As you open the door you find John at the counter drinking coffee staring at a stack of papers.

“What are you reading?” you ask startling him. _Black widow child bride for the win_ , you think smugly to yourself.

 “I got a copy of the Lamberti police report,” John responds.

“How did you do that?” you ask as John stands pouring coffee into a second mug. He adds a generous amount of milk.

“Dean,” he says shortly, handing you the mug.

“Hmm,” you say taking a sip of your coffee. “He knows?” you ask curiously.

“Just what he needs to know,” John says tersely.

“Right,” you say skeptically.

“I am going to go to work and then pick up some groceries after we close. Do you need anything?” you ask.

“I am good doll,” John says focused on reading through the reports.

“Alright,” you say halfheartedly finishing your coffee and grabbing your purse heading to the door.

“What no kiss goodbye?” he says looking up at you with a smirk.

You narrow your eyes at him and smile. “Goodbye John. Have a good day,” you say before closing the door behind you.

You arrive before Sophia and go through the normal opening routine. She arrives shortly after and greets you with a cheery smile.

“Sophia before we open, I just want to let you know I really appreciate you closing and picking up extra responsibilities. I want to give you a raise,” you say smiling.

“Awesome! Thank you,” she says appreciatively.

“I can swing a 5% increase. I know it isn’t a lot …” you start to say.

“5% is great,” she says reassuringly.

“We can reevaluate in six months. I have some ideas to increase our foot traffic,” you tell her.

“Actually, I have a few ideas too,” she says hesitantly.

“I know you told John we don’t specialize in rare texts, but I think we should. There is a high demand for first editions, antique manuscripts, books that you wouldn’t normally find at a regular bookstore. You could be a broker. I did some research and I think …” she trails off.

“You hate it,” she says dejectedly.

“Not at all! I am just surprised. I honestly never considered it before. Why don’t you put together a proposal and let me look it over?” you tell her.

“I can do that,” she says with a smile.

“Perfect,” you tell her.

“Anything else on the agenda for today?” she asks.

“I have a few calls to make, but I should be done by lunch. I can join you in front in the afternoon,” you tell her.

“Sounds good boss,” she says.

You walk towards your office setting your purse down. You make a few calls trying to find a cheaper point of sale vendor and paper goods supplier. Reducing fixed costs will help increase profits. Hours pass and soon it is noon. You offer to pick up lunch and you and Sophia decide on a salad bar nearby. “I’ll be back in ten,” you tell her grabbing your purse. You pick up the order and pull into the bookstore parking lot seeing a black BMW with the license plate “L&L” parked across two spaces.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit_ , you think to yourself grabbing the food from the passenger seat. Your nerves are bundles of livewires, but you calmly walk into the store. You find David standing in front of the counter chatting with Sophia. Her expression is pleasant as always and you resist the urge to pull him away from her.

As the doorbell chimes, David turns leaning his elbows lazily against the counter. “There she is,” he says his eyes gleaming dangerously.

You stare at him weighing your options. You don’t want to make a scene or scare Sophia, but you have told him before he isn’t welcome. A statement he has obviously disregarded. You scan the room and discover the store is empty. _Scene be damned_ , you think to yourself.

“David, I made it clear you aren’t welcome here,” you say standing with your shoulders pushed back.

“Why so rude Ronnie? Especially given our history,” he says stalking over towards you running his finger down your cheek.

“Leave. Now,” you say forcefully trying to keep your composure.

“You are such a buzzkill Ronnie. Sophia here is much more fun to talk to,” he says staring at you tauntingly.

“Sophia, call the police,” you tell her meeting his stare.

“You’re bluffing,” he whispers.

“Try me,” you say glaring at him. You hear Sophia shifting papers out of the way and grabbing the phone. She hits the button and the ringtone fills the silence.

“Boss,” she says hesitantly.

“Do it,” you tell her.

She punches in the number just as David says, “Cunt,” and leaves you standing there with the takeout bags.

You close your eyes taking deep breaths your skin crawling. You hear Sophia hang up the phone. _Get it together Ronnie,_ you chastise yourself.

“I am not really hungry anymore,” you tell Sophia. “Do you want me to leave your salad out so you can eat it?” you ask cheerily.

“Boss who was that?” she asks walking towards you taking the bag from your hand leading you back behind the counter.

You lean against the counter running your tongue over your teeth debating how much to tell Sophia. “David Lyding, future heir and owner of Lyding and Lodge Enterprises. We don’t get along,” you tell her.

“No shit!” she says and then covers her mouth making sure there are no customers.

“He came in just after you left. He kept asking about you. He creeped me out so I didn’t tell him anything,” she says reassuringly.

“Thank you. I am sorry you had to talk to him. Sophia, listen. David is persistent. From now on we open and close together. If he shows up again you get me or you call the cops,” you tell her arms crossed over your chest.

“Boss, I can handle myself,” she says offended.

“This isn’t about you. It is about him. This is non-negotiable,” you stare at her seriously.

She looks at you with a curious expression. “Okay boss. Okay,” she relents.

Luckily the rest of the afternoon is busy. After you and Sophia leave together, you stop at the grocery store. As you walk in with your arms full, you find John sitting at the couch barefoot with a white shirt, gray sweatpants and even more papers spread out over your coffee table.

“Little help?” you ask as he gets up from the couch and grabs the two bags of groceries.

“Busy day?” he asks.

“Very,” you respond setting your purse down on the kitchen island.

“You?” you ask. “Same. I had a few more appointments. I called Dean this afternoon and he did a little more digging,” John says motioning to the papers scattered across the coffee table.

“I see,” you say while putting away the groceries.

“Are you hungry? There is leftover Chinese in the fridge,” he says.

“God, yes. I didn’t get a chance to eat lunch” you say walking towards your bedroom to change.

“Bookstore that busy?” John asks.

“David stopped by while I went to pick up lunch,” you tell John walking back out into the living room taking your earrings off and putting them in your pocket.

“Did he hurt you?” John says crossing the room in two steps. He gently inspects your wrists and tilts your face side to side looking for bruises.  

“I am fine. He scared the shit out of Sophia. I told her from now on we open and close together,” you say giving him a sad smile. “I hate feeling like we aren’t making any progress,” you say slipping out of your shoes.

John grabs the leftovers, two beers and chopsticks clearing a space for you on the couch. “I think I may have something,” John says.

“Oh yeah?” you ask sitting cross legged on the couch.

“I have been asking around about Mr. Lamberti’s business ventures. It is no secret he has a half a dozen business partners in this building. As far as I can tell everyone loved him,” John says.

A smile tugs at your lips as you reach for a white takeout container. “Now Steve though … more than one person told me he and Mr. Lamberti had a difference of opinion regarding the procurement of paintings for the gallery. That’s when I called Dean and asked him to pull everything he could on the gallery,” John says motioning towards the stacks of papers.

“Wow,” you say rifling through employee schedules, account ledgers, meeting notes. “There is more. He said he would be in touch,” John says sitting back on the couch.

“John?” you say absently.

“Hmm?” he answers.

“Do you think Dean cold pull this kind of info on David?” you ask tentatively.

“Probably. What are you thinking?” he asks.

“I know guys like David. Nobody with that lifestyle is squeaky clean. Maybe he is doing drugs? Embezzling funds? Offshore accounts?” you say with uncertainty.

“I’ll have him see what he can find,” John says resting his arm over the back of the couch.

You relax eating your dinner in peace as John scans through the documents occasionally adjusting his glasses. Eventually you lean into his chest curling your feet on the couch reading along with him. His phone vibrates interrupting the silence. John looks at his phone punching the accept button.

“Hey Dean,” he says gruffly into the phone.

“Dad? Dude you hit Facetime,” an exasperated voice says.

John pulls the phone away from away his face. A young man with light brown hair, vibrant green eyes and a scowl lights up the screen.

“Hey. Can you see me?” John asks.

“I found something good,” he says glancing down at what you assume is a laptop.

“I was digging through the gallery records and stumbled on provenance records…” he says.

“Provenance?” John asks.

“Certificates of authenticity for art,” you tell John.

At the sound of your voice, Dean looks up from the laptop. Suddenly his scowl turns into a dimpled smile. “Hello beautiful,” he says smoothly.

You blush glancing at John. “Hi Dean,” you say in a self-conscious tone.

He squints his eyes glancing between you and John. “How do you know my name? Are you and John…?” Dean trails off.

“Dean!” John growls.

He clears his throat. “A number of these provenance records are fake. They coincide with business trips Steve booked to Mexico. Each time he returned with a new piece,” Dean says straightforwardly.

“Interesting,” John says.

“What’s interesting?” you ask.

“Steve is stealing artwork and forging documents to make the transactions legitimate. It would mean 100% profit for the gallery. Mr. Lamberti must have discovered the work was stolen,” John says succinctly.

“Good work, Dean. I have another job for you. I need you to send me everything you can find on David Lyding of Lyding and Lodge Enterprises,” John says.

“Is this related to your case?” Dean asks with a furrowed brow.

“No,” John says offering no explanation.

“Okay,” Dean says raising his eyebrows with an exasperated sigh, clearly overworked.

“It’s for me,” you interject. Dean’s eyes light up. “It’s kind of personal,” you say hesitantly.

“Well, anything for you gorgeous,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes. “Thank you Dean,” you say sweetly.

“We will be in touch,” John says before hanging up.

“So that’s Dean,” you say with a smirk.

“Yeah,” John says giving you a challenging look.

“Not going to say a word,” you say shaking your head at him.


	9. Chapter 9

You wake up disoriented. You don’t remember falling asleep, but you are definitely in your bed nestled under a heavy comforter. As you pull the blanket aside you notice you are still dressed in your black wide leg pants and sweater. Distracted by Dean's research, you never changed. You must have fallen asleep on the couch. You take a hot shower and slip on an oversized sweater, ripped jeans and gym shoes. You grab your backpack purse and open the bedroom door slowly. John is asleep on the couch with a pile of papers on his stomach. You move the papers to the coffee table and unfold a blanket pulling it over him. You grab a pen and write a quick note.

_John,_

_Went to work. Didn’t want to wake you._

_Ronnie_

As you lock the door behind you and head towards the elevator bank you text Sophia asking her what kind of bagel she wants and telling her to wait for you to unlock the store. The day passes without incident. As you and Sophia count the register you glance at her wondering if she is the closest thing you to have a friend.  _Like you don’t have bigger problems Ronnie_ , you scold yourself.

“Any plans this weekend boss?” she asks as you mentally chastise yourself.

“Nope. Just going to catch up on some reading,” you say casually hoping she doesn’t ask you what you are reading.

“What about you?” you ask quickly.

“Not a thing. My girlfriend is visiting her family. I will probably work on that proposal. I am surprised you and John don’t have plans,” she says harmlessly.

“Oh … I see him so sporadically … I just like to enjoy his company when he is in town,” you say awkwardly.

“I see,” she says trying to keep a straight face.

“That didn’t sound right did it?” you ask laughing.

“No, it really didn’t,” she says bursting into laughter.

“I know what you mean though. I never thought I would miss someone’s company, just their presence,” she says as she continues counting bills.

“Yeah,” you say sadly thinking about John’s inevitable departure.

You come home to an empty apartment and decide to start dinner. As a pot of water comes to a boil you hear the door unlock. John walks in wearing a black t-shirt and leather jacket. He walks over to the stove lifting the lid. “Pasta?” he asks giving you a side hug.

“Yup. Is that okay?” you ask.

“Of course doll. I am never going to complain about anything you cook for me,” he says with a smile. 

After dinner you sit on the sofa reading through files. Dean was able to find some basic information on David. He told John to tell you he would send more and to let you know he hates research, but anything for you. You rolled your eyes when John told you and walked to the bedroom to change into [baggy black sweatpants](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/242631498652213763/) and a gray long sleeve crop top. You wash your face, take your jewelry off and let your hair down massaging your scalp with your fingers.

You walk to the kitchen and fill the teakettle with water.

“Dean is right,” John says getting up from the couch leaning his back against the island arms crossed over his chest with a handful of papers. “There are at least five stolen paintings and an email from Mr. Lamberti telling Steve they need to talk,” he says.

“What are you thinking?” you ask dropping a tea bag into each mug.

“Either Steve killed Mr. Lamberti because he knew the truth or someone targeted Mr. Lamberti because of the stolen paintings, meaning Steve could also be a target,” John says thoughtfully. 

A shiver runs down your spine recalling the grisly scenes at the Lamberti’s apartment. John realizes you are shaking and walks over and wraps his arms around you setting his head on top of yours. 

“I want whoever did this found. They didn’t deserve … they didn’t deserve to die like that,” you say angrily. 

You tuck your head into his chest closing your eyes tightly. Your body jolts hearing a knock at the door.

“Are you expecting anyone?” he asks looking down at you.

You shake your head silently. He walks over to the door and looks through the eyehole. “Carol,” he silently mouths to you before unlocking the door. 

“Hey Carol,” he says.

“Hi John. Sorry to bother you. Can I come in?” she asks hesitantly.

“Of course,” he says opening the door.

“Hi Carol. I was just making some tea. Would you like some?” you ask graciously.

“Oh no, I don’t mean to intrude. I just wanted to invite you to the fundraiser this Friday,” she says glancing between you and John. Something about Carol always reminds you of a startled deer ready to bolt at any moment.

“Fundraiser?” you ask. 

“Steve insisted on hosting a fundraiser in order to set up a scholarship in Mr. Lamberti’s name. It will benefit five local high school students who embody Mr. Lamberti’s entrepreneurial spirit,” she says with a half smile.

“That sounds great Carol,” you say touching her arm reassuringly. 

“Tickets are $100 each. I know it is a lot, but it is for a good cause. Steve has donated the refreshments and paintings from the gallery will be auctioned off. It should be really nice,” she says nervously. 

“How generous of him,” you say superficially.

“Most of the other tenants are attending. I wanted to invite you personally,” she says smiling at you.

“That is very sweet of you. I will buy three tickets,” you tell her.

“Fantastic,” she says her face lighting up.

As you walk towards your purse, you hear another knock on the door.

“John,” you say anxiously trying to mask your alarm.

John walks over to the door looking through the eyehole. “It’s your mom,” he says neutrally.

He unlocks the door. “Good Evening Mrs. Lodge,” he says her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

“Hi Mom. You remember Carol?” you say reintroducing the two women.

“Oh yes. Carol. Nice to see you again,” she says insincerely.

You frown pulling your checkbook from your purse. “Carol is a check alright? Or do you need cash?” you ask.

“A check is just fine,” she says edging closer to the door.

“What are you writing a check for?” your mom asks rudely. 

“A fundraiser,” you say dismissively while signing the check.

“Oh yes, you were always coordinating little events weren’t you?” your mom says turning her gaze towards Carol.

“Mom!” you say shocked she would be so rude to a stranger, especially someone like Carol.

“Carol, I appreciate you stopping by to invite me. I will see you Friday,” you tell her leading her towards the door.

“Was that really necessary?” you ask as you close the door.

“Well it is technically true. Women like that have nothing better to do,” she says arrogantly.

"Did you need something Mrs. Lodge?” John asks folding his arms over his chest.

Your mom locks eyes on John noticing the two of you are in your pajamas.

“As a matter of fact I do. I need to talk to Ronnie. Alone,” she says eyes narrowing at John.

“No. What is it?” you ask insolently.

“Veronica!” you mother scolds.

“I was about to go to bed mother,” you say angrily.

"Yes well you two certainly look very cozy,” she says.

“What do you want mom?” you ask with a sigh.

“I stopped by to remind you about the family reunion this weekend,” she says in a clipped tone.

“Mom, I already told you …” you begin. 

“Yes, I know your little bookstore. I thought Cynthia was competent enough to make sure it doesn’t burn to the ground for a few days,” she says dismissively.

You glare at your mom seconds away from telling her to go to hell.

“I will think about it,” you say clenching your jaw.

“Veronica … your father expects …” your mom begins.

“Mrs. Lodge. Veronica and I were about to go to bed before Carol arrived,” he says walking towards you cupping your face in his hands kissing your mouth firmly for much longer than neccesary.

“Now if you wouldn’t mind,” he says forcibly ushering your mom to the door. “We will think about the reunion,” he says before firmly closing the door behind her.


	10. Chapter 10

“Do you want to talk about it?” John asks locking the door.

“Talk about what happened with my mom?” you ask with a confused expression.

“Talk about me kissing you,” John says.

“John, I asked you to pretend to be my boyfriend. I assumed there would be some making out. What is there to talk about?” you say insulted he would think you needed to discuss it. 

After your mom left, you and John continued to read through the information Dean sent. You wake up to blinding sunlight and sofa cushions digging into your back. You find yourself on the couch with a blanket draped over you. As you sit up shielding your eyes from the sun, you hear the sound of John rummaging around in the kitchen.

“That sofa is fucking awful,” you tell him walking towards your bedroom. You freshen up, braid your hair and throw on a pair of shorts and a black and white striped shirt.  

You walk into the kitchen noticing the dark circles under John’s eyes and a plate of half-eaten scrambled eggs. “Did you sleep?” you ask taking a seat at the kitchen island settling into the high back stool.

“No. I was up all night reviewing the expense reports Dean sent. The charges Steve incurred in Mexico suggest he wasn’t alone,” John says.

“He could have had a business contact?” you suggest.

“I don’t normally eat chocolate covered strawberries, drink champagne and get massages with my business contacts,” John says chuckling thinking of Bobby.

“Good point,” you tell him.

“If this is about revenge Steve is definitely a target. Mr. and Mrs. Lamberti’s deaths were probably a message,” John says scrapping the rest of his plate into the garbage and dropping it into the empty dishwasher.

“Steve will be at the fundraiser tonight,” you say eyeing the coffee pot.

He notices your gaze and pours you a cup with your usual generous portion of milk.

“If I were her, I would confront him at the fundraiser,” you say.

“Why?” John asks.

“Steve will be exploiting the persona he has created for himself: loving husband, gallery owner, all-around good guy. He needs to protect that identity. A mistress with details of illegal activities would ruin his life. The chance to turn the tables and tear his world apart would be too hard to resist,” you explain.

“Are we talking about Steve or David?” John asks.

“Ruining David’s life wouldn’t be enough. I would want him to know what it feels like to be vulnerable,” you say surprising yourself. Up until now you told yourself it was about finding a way out of marrying him.

“I think we should go to the family reunion,” John says interrupting your thoughts.

“Absolutely not,” you say bolting out of your seat. Your blood pumping loudly in your ears.

“Ronnie …” John begins.

“No. I told you when we deal with my fucked up shit we do it my way. We aren’t going,” you say angrily.

You stare at him fiercely. When you don’t respond he continues, “Guys like David don’t stop! You know that. Your parents have met me, but he hasn’t seen us together! This has always been about buying time. When we get back we will comb through every piece of information Dean finds,” John says.

You clench your jaw. He walks over to you cupping your face in his hands forcing you to look into his eyes. 

“You can’t let him ruin your life,” John says angrily. 

“He already has John,” you say viciously, grabbing your purse heading for the door.

You and Sophia pull up to the bookstore at the same time.The morning passes quickly with you and Sophia both helping customers make selections and ringing them up. Thankful for the distraction you check your watch and realize it is almost lunch time. Just as you pick out a delivery menu, you hear the soft chime indicating a customer has arrived. You stand behind the counter watching John approach with a large takeout bag from a local sandwich shop.

You stand in silence watching him replaying your conversation from this morning.

“Hi John,” Sophia says in a friendly tone.

“Hey. I thought the two of you might like lunch. You didn’t eat anything this morning,” he says setting the bag on the counter giving you a concerned look.

Sophia starts digging excitedly through the bag. “You bought way too much. Want to join us?” she asks.

“Sure,” John says glancing at your face unsure if he is welcome.

“Thank you” you say sincerely, determined to make the most of a fucked up situation and not push away the only person who might be able to help you. The three of you set up containers on the back counter and stand having an impromptu picnic.

“Did Ronnie tell you about the fundraiser tonight?” John asks.

 _Shit_ , you curse internally. You forgot to tell Sophia about the charity event.

“No. What’s up?” she asks.

“My apartment is hosting a fundraiser. The proceeds will go towards a scholarship for students who exemplify Mr. Lamberti’s entrepreneurial spirit. You mentioned your girlfriend is out of town … I thought you might want to come with,” you say hoping you aren’t overstepping boundaries.

“I would love to go. I miss Mr. Lamberti. He used to come in and try and reorder the displays. ‘Classics in the front’ he would always say,” Sophia says with a chuckle.

The memory pulls at your heartstrings. “Yeah he did do that,” you say smiling. “It is semi-formal. You can meet us at my apartment and we can all go together,” you tell her.

“Sounds good. My only other plans involve working on that proposal,” she says taking a bite of potato salad.

“Proposal?” John asks.

“Sophia thinks we should start specializing in rare texts, manuscripts, special orders. I asked her to put together a business proposal,” you explain.

“That’s a great idea. I can tell why Ronnie keeps you around,” John says with a smile.

“And I can tell why Ronnie keeps you around,” Sophia answers scanning him up and down. You laugh as she grabs the empty lunch containers and takes them to the trash. John stares at Sophia as she walks away shaking his head in disbelief. “If she were into guys, I would set her up with Dean,” John says unexpectedly.

“Oh she swings both ways,” you tell John mischievously. “Oh God, he would propose,” he says as you both laugh.

“Did you tell Sophia to take the weekend off?” John asks.

“No. I will though,” you tell him.

“So we are going then?” he asks.

“We are going,” you say with a sigh.

“Wear that crown Ronnie,” John says tilting your chin up and kissing your lips softly.


	11. Chapter 11

Once you are finally home, you take a bath and pick a [long black tulle skirt](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/242631498653160103/), high neck heather gray tank top and black tight leather jacket. As you finish coiling your hair into a low messy bun and applying eyeliner, mascara, bronzer and blush you hear John arrive. You walk into the kitchen slipping on a gold cuff and turquoise ring. John is wearing a dark charcoal gray suit, white button down shirt and matching vest with brown shoes.

“You look very handsome,” you tell him a smile.

“Well I wouldn’t want to shatter Sophia’s illusions of why you keep me around. You look beautiful. I am going to have to keep my eye on you,” he says stroking your cheek.

“I would have never thought you were the jealous type,” you say sarcastically.

“Really?” John says surprised.

“No, John. You are absolutely the jealous type. Loose women, whiskey and bar brawls. Tell me I am wrong,” you say teasing him.

“Damn doll,” he says throwing his head back laughing. “You got me all figured out. Are you ready?” he asks as you stare into his dark eyes.

You close your eyes. _Ready for what? To catch a killer? Face David? Face my mom? I have to be_ , you think to yourself. “Yes,” you say confidently.

An excited knock pulls you from your thoughts. Sophia stands in the entryway dressed in wide leg pants, a white shirt buttoned scandalously low and a fitted blazer with princess sleeves. Her brown glossy hair is tossed over her shoulder.

“Sophia! You look amazing,” you say letting her inside.

“Damn, you wear a suit better than I do,” John says with a laugh.

“Almost,” she says with a wink.

“Ready?” you ask smiling at the two of them.

“Always,” Sophia says excitedly.

The town car pulls up to the hotel as guests make their way to the entrance. You walk into a large banquet room. A buffet table lines one wall, a bar on the opposite end. Servers circulate with flutes of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. A podium and screen has been set up for the auction. Soft music and the chatter of guests floods the room. John hands you each a champagne flute and with a quick kiss on the cheek heads to the bar.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in tomorrow boss?” Sophia asks sipping her champagne.

“Absolutely. Two days won’t kill us. The store has been doing really well and when we start custom orders we will be even better off,” you say.

“When?” she asks.

“I still want to see the proposal,” you say adamantly, scanning the crowd for John.

“Good Evening,” a voice interjects. Rick, a young bachelor who lives in your apartment stands in front of you and Sophia.

“Hi Rick. This is my friend Sophia,” you say introducing the two.

“It is nice to meet you Sophia,” he says shaking her hand.

“How do you know Ronnie?” he asks.

“We work together at the bookstore,” she says.

“Yes! The bookstore. I keep telling Ronnie she should let me draw up plans for a café. I can see it now, to the right of the register,” he says arms waving enthusiastically. His hand finds its way to your lower back.

You laugh.

“Rick, I told you before I love the idea of a café. We just don’t have the money for it right now. Sophia and I were just discussing ideas on how to bring in more revenue,” you say. You take a sip of champagne. “Maybe you can draw up the plans for when we are ready?” you suggest giving him a bright smile.

“Ready for what?” you hear John ask behind you.

Rick’s hand immediately retreats from your back.

“Rick was just offering to draw up plans for a café at the bookstore,” you say lightly.

“Rick this is John. John this is Rick,” you say with a forced smile.

John glares at Rick.

“How do you know Ronnie?” Rick asks hesitantly.

“Oh, John is my boyfriend,” you say giving Rick a ditzy smile as John rests his hand possessively on your hip.

“I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend,” Rick says genuinely.

“She does. I travel a lot,” John responds tersely.

“Rick maybe you could tell me more about the café. I bet I could convince Ronnie if I had a few more details,” Sophia says graciously setting her hand on Rick’s arm leading him to a nearby table.

 _God bless her_ , you think to yourself.

“What was that?” you turn hissing at John.

“He had his hand on your lower back,” John says furiously.

“So? I am not yours,” you say your eyes gleaming dangerously.

“Technically, you are Ronnie. Loose women, whiskey and bar brawls, remember?” John says angrily.

“Have you gone absolutely senile? What the fuck are you talking about?” you ask tilting your head.

“The same rules apply. Random assholes don’t get to touch my girlfriend. Real of fake,” he growls.

“You are absolutely ridiculous …” you say storming off towards the bar.

As you cut a path through the crowd, you see Steve lingering near the bar. He looks sweaty and his hollowed cheeks make him look gaunt. Just as you decide to approach him his face pales and he quickly slips through a service door. You scan the crowd checking to see if anyone is paying attention and then silently follow him. His footsteps echo on the tile floor as he weaves through the kitchen dodging staff. Grateful you are wearing boots instead of heels you grab the extra material of your skirt and pick up the pace. He turns the corner and stops abruptly near a deserted elevator bank. You press yourself against the wall praying he doesn’t decide to go back the way he came.

“You!” a female voice hisses.

“Maria, I didn’t know. You have to believe me,” Steve begs.

“I don’t have to do anything,” she shrieks.

“You came into town spewing lies, charming me, buying my love. You used me!” she screams as a tray of silverware clatters to the ground.

“Maria, I never meant to …” Steve begins to say cut off by a loud thud. “Shut up! I get to talk now. You praised my talent, called me your little artist, slept with me even though you were married! I was foolish enough to think you would leave your wife. If I loved you hard enough. If I painted you enough paintings maybe then you would stay. But no, you didn’t stay did you, Steve? You ran. You remember that midnight swim. How you used to love undressing me listening to the waves crashing against the shore,” she says her voice becoming dangerously soft.

“How you used to run your hands over my skin… until one night that thing discovered us. Oh, you ran. You ran and left me! Do you know what happened, Steve? It bit me. It bit me over and over again. The next day when they found me bloody in a torn dress my mother thought I had been raped. She didn’t think that for long though, because the next night was a full moon and I turned. I turned and I ate her heart. I woke up the next day and found her chest cracked open, blood spattered on the walls. And what do you think I found when I went looking for you? When I was scared and alone? I found out you left. I was so naïve. I thought maybe you were scared. I thought maybe you thought I was dead. And then I came here and found you. I found your apartment. I found your wife. I found your art gallery, but most importantly I found my paintings. Stolen. Forged. Selling for thousands. My work. My whole life,” she screams hysterically.

“You and that old man stole from me. So you know what I did? I ate him. I ate him and his wife and they were delicious. Their hearts were so ripe. And do you know what I am going to do to you Steve? I am going to eat you and when I am done, I am going to explain to your wife her husband is a piece of shit and because of it she is going to die, and then I am going to eat her. It is going be horrific, but I guess you will just have to take my word for it,” she says with laugh before you hear a scream.

You cover your ears trying to block out the gurgling, splintering, sucking noises coming from just around the corner. Steve’s screams stop and there is nothing but silence. Your breathing becomes shallow. _I need to get out of here_ , you think to yourself frantically. You scream at yourself to move, but you are paralyzed with fear.

Just as you hear a sniffing sound, you hear the elevator ding.

“Ronnie?” Sophia’s voice rings out.

 _No_ , you scream to yourself.

“Oh my God! What is this? What did you do?” you hear Sophia scream.

You turn the corner and see Maria stalking towards Sophia. You shake your head in disbelief looking around for a weapon. You scramble picking up a steak knife off the ground as Maria lifts Sophia off of her feet pinning her against the wall.

“Sophia!” you scream tossing the steak knife. She catches it and plunges it deep into Maria’s chest.

In seconds they are both on the ground. Maria is eerily still as Sophia sobs clutching her neck gasping struggling to breathe.

“Ronnie!” you hear a voice call. “RONNIE!” John shouts.

“John!” you yell turning back towards Sophia.

“Sophia, look at me. Don’t look at her. Look at me,” you repeat as she continues to stare at Maria’s corpse.

Suddenly John turns the corner. “FUCK,” he shouts seeing you crouched down staring at Sophia.

“Sophia,” you say stroking her cheek lightly.

“You are okay. You are okay. Can you stand? Please?” you plead.

She stands on shaky legs. You quickly turn her so she can no longer see the body.

“See, you are okay,” you say with a fake smile nodding. Sophia begins to nod her eyes still wide.

“Can you do me a favor?” you say fixing her suit buttoning her coat to cover the blood and smoothing her hair.

“Yeah, boss?” she asks.

 _She killed someone. She is never going to be the same and she is still calling me boss_ , you think to yourself as your heart breaks.

“Can you please go upstairs and drink a flute of champagne?” you say nodding encouragingly.

“Champagne?” she asks confused.

“Yes, drink a flute and sit at a table and if anyone asks where I am, you tell them I am with John,” you say speaking to her as if she were a child.

“Can you do that?” you ask softly.

“I…I think I can,” she stammers.

“Good girl. Go upstairs, have a drink and if anyone asks I am with John,” you repeat.

“With John…” she says trailing off.

“By the time you are done we will be back upstairs and ready to go,” you say with fake enthusiasm.

“I would like that,” she says lamely.

“Perfect. So you go make your way upstairs and John and I will be right there,” you say pointing her in the direction of the banquet hall.

You squeeze her shoulder reassuringly.

“I will be right there,” you say before gently pushing her down the hall.

You turn towards the body gagging at the scent of blood staring at Steve’s open ribcage. John has repositioned the bodies and is holding the steak knife with a cloth napkin. He rubs off Sophia’s fingerprints before placing it in Steve’s hand. You stand numbly staring at Steve’s body. You imagined catching the killer would be satisfying. That you would feel justice was served. That the hole Mr. and Mrs. Lamberti left would finally be filled.

Instead you stare at the corpse of a man who turned a woman into a monster long before she was bitten.


	12. Chapter 12

John turns towards you, “Ronnie…” he begins to say at the exact moment the circular elevator call button illuminates.

Someone is coming.

You grab John’s hand and sprint down the corridor. Screams fill the hall as you squeeze his hand darting through empty rooms. Just as you are about to walk through the service door and rejoin Sophia in the banquet hall, you hear voices approaching. You glance at John with a terrified expression. He grabs your waist and pins you against the wall kissing you roughly. You wrap your arms around his neck nipping at his lower lip. He responds by crushing you into the wall. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, the sound of footsteps getting closer. 

From over his shoulder, John hears someone cough loudly. He sets you down gently and turns towards the staff member. “Good Evening,” he says with an easy smile sliding his hands in his pockets. “Can I help you?” he asks shielding you from their view. “I apologize but there has been an incident. I am going to have to ask you to return to the banquet hall,” the security guard says pointing towards the door with a two-way radio in hand.

“Of course,” John says resting his hand on your lower back leading you through the door. The banquet room is chaos, clusters of people group together speculating about the screams. Servers circulate either unaware of what has occurred or unsure whether they should continue working. Security guards attempt to calm worried guests. You scan the room and find Sophia standing next to a table sipping champagne. You resist the urge to run to her and instead cross the room in measured strides. You touch her arm asking, “Are you done with your champagne?” with a purposeful look.

“I am,” she says distantly. As the three of you walk towards the exit, John squeezes your arm. You and Sophia cease walking and you watch him approach Carol with a concerned expression. You can’t hear their conversation, but you can tell she is close to tears as she gestures wildly and then covers her face with her hands before finally succumbing to tears. You watch him give her a quick hug before gently passing her into the arms of a neighbor.

“Let’s go,” he barks under his breath as the three of you continue walking towards the doors.

You slide into the backseat of a taxi as John helps Sophia in and then finally closes the door behind him. He tells the driver your address and you give John a worried look as you stare at Sophia’s pensive expression. Minutes later, the taxi pulls up to your building. John pays the driver and you begin to usher Sophia towards the entrance. She clutches your arm as you approach the elevators. “No,” she says firmly.

“Okay,” you say smoothly redirecting her to the stairwell. You walk up five flights of stairs and quickly unlock the door to your apartment. You take her arm and walk her over to the couch helping her sit. 

You walk back over to John. “John, she thinks she killed that woman!” you say in a hushed tone.

John rubs his hand over his face. “Fuck. It should have been me. I should have been there. Sophia got very lucky. That werewolf would have killed her and then it would have killed you,” he says cupping your face.

“We are going to have to tell her,” you say faintly. “She wasn’t even supposed to be down there. She was looking for me,” you say guiltily.

“I know. She didn’t have a choice though. You would both be dead,” John says staring into your eyes. “We will explain it to her in the morning. You two just get some rest,” he says glancing at Sophia with a guilty expression. 

You guide Sophia to your room and convince her to change and lay down. You quickly strip removing your jewelry and makeup changing into shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt. You pull the blankets over the two of you giving her a worried glance praying she doesn’t freak out when you tell her monsters are real.

Without an alarm you sleep passed your normal hour. You blink a few times trying to remember why Sophia is in your bed. The events of last night come back to you in flashes and in an instant you are sitting upright. You glance over at Sophia, who is staring at the ceiling deep in thought.

“Sophia?” you ask hesitantly.

“Yeah, boss?” she responds turning towards you.

“You awake?” you inquire stupidly.

“Yeah, boss. I was just thinking,” she says.

“Thinking about what?” you probe pulling your knees to your chest.

She sits up and turns towards you sitting cross-legged with a serious expression. “I was just thinking … did we just become best friends? Because we did take down a werewolf last night,” she says with a sober look.

“What? How do you … Are you out of your mind?” you shout as she bursts into laughter tossing her head back.

You wrap your arms around her shoulders tackling her “How are you even making jokes?” you shout a huge smile tugging at your lips as she giggles and tries to pry you off.

“I can explain—” she starts to shriek through laughs before John slams the door to your bedroom open.

“What the hell is going on?” he demands staring at the two grappling on the bed. 

The two of you share a look and immediately succumb to hysterics again. You press your face into pillow and begin laughing and crying simultaneously.

_We killed a werewolf._

_Sophia slept in my bed._

_Sophia knows about werewolves._  

“Get in here Winchester and I will explain,” Sophia says flirtatiously with an incorrigible smile.

John motions for you to move towards the center and sits on your bed arms draped over his knees starting at Sophia in disbelief. Sophia lays back down tucking her arms behind her head staring at the ceiling again. With your knees pressed against your chest and your arms hugging a pillow you turn to face both of them. The absurdity of John and Sophia in your bed isn’t lost on you, but you are so elated there is no place you would rather be.

“I may not have been completely upfront when I suggested we consider special orders. Rare texts … manuscripts… the occult … it is kind of my thing. It was just a passing interest until I met Charlie. We met at an auction. She seriously outbid me on a book I desperately wanted. We started dating and she told me it was real. All of it. I would have never believed her, but she took me on a hunt, nothing crazy just a salt and burn. I think she wanted me to understand that piece of her life,” Sophia says distantly. 

“When I found out about Mr. and Mrs. Lamberti and John showed up… I pieced it together,” Sophia says turning towards you and John.

“You are a hunter. That is why you travel so much for work. The security consultant thing is a good cover. I didn’t mean to get caught in the middle. I was looking for Ronnie and then it kind of just happened,” she says in a contemplative tone. 

John rubs his hand over his face still amazed the two of you are alive.

“You scared the shit out of me, but we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you hadn’t followed me… so yeah we are best friends now… and you can stop calling me boss,” you say seriously with a half smile.

“Oh I don’t call you boss because you are _my boss_. I call you boss because you are bossy as fuck,” Sophia says earnestly.

John chuckles and you reach for your pillow smacking them both. “That’s it. Everyone out of my bed! Now!” you say laughing.

As Sophia showers, you sit on the kitchen island waiting for your coffee maker to finish brewing. John shuffles through the papers on the coffee table stowing them in a folder out of sight. You watch him and say “One down one to go,” dejectedly the earlier excitement wearing off.

John walks over to you and rests his forehead against yours. “Take the win Ronnie. You are alive. Sophia is alive. Last night could have gone differently. We will be ready for the next fight, but for now, take the win. I know I am,” he says stroking your jaw gazing at you.


	13. Chapter 13

Sophia finishes in the shower and walks into the kitchen wearing only a towel. “Ronnie, do you have some clean clothes I can borrow?” she asks while towel drying her hair.

You slide off of the kitchen island. “Let me find you something,” you say walking towards the bedroom. As you rummage through the dresser looking for something that will fit her curvy frame you hear John and Sophia talking, their faint voices interrupted by the unmistakable ring of John’s cell phone. You grab a pair of gray sweatpants and head towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, thanks for sending all of that information over Dean. I am going to need another favor,” you hear John say gruffly. “No, not more research,” he says quickly.

“Sophia, I found you something to wear,” you say in a singsong voice.

“What? No, that was Ronnie. Yes, she said Sophia. Yes, she said something to wear. Dean! Focus!” John growls.

You smile weakly shaking your head as you lead Sophia back to your bedroom.

"Who is Dean?" she asks curiously. 

"His son," you respond as her eyes light up with interest. 

"These should fit. Get dressed," you laugh handing her the sweatpants and motioning towards a hoodie already laid out on the bed.

“I am going to jump in the shower. Yell if you need anything,” you tell her.

“Yes boss,” she says rolling her eyes with a smile. 

You shower and  throw on denim shorts, over the knee camp socks and a thin long sleeve gray t-shirt. Digging out a small overnight bag from your closet, you toss a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, underwear, sweatpants and a dress into the duffel bag. Scooping up your toiletries from the bathroom you add them to the clothes and zip it closed. You slip on your hunter rain boots, grab your duffel and walk into the kitchen surprised to find John alone.

“Where is Sophia?” you ask glancing around the room.

“She left,” he says transferring clothes from his large army canvas duffel into a smaller overnight bag.

“Oh,” you say disappointed she didn’t wait to say goodbye.

You pour yourself coffee and sit in a stool watching John finish packing. Going to the lake house for your family reunion starts to become a reality and you almost wish you could rewind to last night.

 _That's not fucked up at all Ronnie_ , you think to yourself.  

“Are you okay?” John asks interrupting your thoughts while eyeing the overnight bag over at your feet.

“I will be better when this is over,” you say vaguely as he zips his bag closed.

“Well, let’s get going then,” he says lifting your bag over his shoulder walking towards the door.

John helps you up into his monster truck closing the door once you are settled. As he drives toward the interstate you glance over at him. He is dressed in black jeans, a denim shirt and brown boots. Soon you are out of the city with nothing but open pastures. John turns on the radio and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. The fuel light dings and minutes later you are pulling into the nearest gas station. He fills up the tank and returns with two coffees, a bag of donuts and two bottles of water. You remove the lid from the coffee and take a long sip. John pulls back onto the highway occasionally glancing at you.

“You should eat,” he says motioning towards the bag. You remember your mother castigating you in front of John at dinner and add it to the list of things you are dreading.

“Did you buy these because you knew my mom was going to criticize everything I put in my mouth?” you say testily.

“No. I bought them because the woman at the counter said they were the best in the county,” John says eyeing you warily.

You pick up the bag eyeing a jelly filled donut. You close the bag taking another long sip of coffee instead. “What is the lake house like? Describe it to me,” John says his eyes glued to the road. Your mouth turns dry and you unscrew the bottle of water and take a long sip.

“I haven’t been back in years,” you respond curtly.

“You must remember something. How many rooms? How many acres? If it is a lake house there must be a la–” he presses.

“John, I don’t remember!” you snap angrily.

The silence is thick as the truck eats the asphalt bringing you closer with each passing second.

“David raped you, didn’t he?” John asks gripping the steering wheel. “He raped that girl when you were sixteen, but he raped you too. That’s why you stopped going to the family reunions,” he says in a matter of fact tone.

You close your eyes pushing down the emotions threatening to overwhelm you and let the silence answer for you. You feel the car swerve and hear him quickly shift gears before slamming the driver side door shut.

“Damnit,” he shouts walking to the bed of the truck leaning his elbows against it staring down at the gravel road. You slip out of your seat closing the door quietly.

You watch him and sigh deeply. “I should have told you,” you say gazing at the pasture across the road.

“You did. That night before we had dinner with your parents. You told me you couldn’t eat dinner remembering how it feels to have that piece of shit touch you. I thought maybe…,” he trails off. “Do your parents know?” he asks lifting his head staring at you.

You shake your head. “I told them he raped that girl and they didn’t believe me. Years later when it happened, I thought about telling them. I thought maybe it would make a difference that it happened to me, their daughter. The world shouldn’t work like that though. It shouldn’t suddenly matter because it happened to someone they know,” you say bitterly.

“Do you want me to kill him?” he asks.

A laugh escapes your lips until you realize he isn’t joking. You stare at him.

“No. It is fucked up that I have to ask a stranger to protect me from someone I have known my whole life. I should be enough, but guys like David.... We both know I am running out of time,” you say staring back at the open pasture.

“What are you going to do Ronnie? We can keep looking for dirt on David, but right now that’s our only plan. When he proposes and you say no things are going to get very bad. You need to think about an exit strategy,” John says seriously.

You wince at his words, “I am not running. My whole life is here,” you say glaring at him.

“You won’t have a life if he kills you! There won’t be a bookstore to run if he puts you in a coma. You don’t need me to tell you this. You are smart enough to realize that is where this is headed. Don’t make me the bad guy for telling you what you already know,” John says angrily.

Minutes pass as you stand in silence. You close your eyes ruminating over John’s words.

“After this weekend, I will start making arrangements to leave,” you say firmly “But I need right now to be the last time we talk about this until we get back. I know you think I am stalling or compartmentalizing or whatever, but I haven’t been to that lake house since David raped me. I cannot spend the next 24 hours dwelling on the past or obsessing about the future. I am sorry. I just can’t. This is just day-to-day for me and I don’t expect you to understand …” you say your voice catching in your throat.

“Ronnie. Ronnie!” John says louder when you don’t open your eyes. “I get it. I understand better than you think. Just promise me that we aren’t going to deal with ‘your fucked up shit’ your way anymore. I already screwed up and let you out of my sight once and it almost got you and Sophia killed. We agree on a plan and we do it together,” he says firmly.

“Okay,” you agree as John pulls you to his chest.


	14. Chapter 14

It isn’t until you are back in the truck driving down the interstate that you let yourself take a deep breath.

"Jelly donuts,” you say the white bag crinkling as you peek inside. You find a napkin and grab the jelly filled donut you noticed earlier. “Those are my favorite,” you say with a weak smile. 

“Mine too,” John says keeping his eyes on the road.

You scan the inside of the bag. “Do you want it?” you ask holding it out to him. “You only bought one,” you say trying not to sound ungrateful.

“You have it. I am not hungry,” he says.

The taste of fried dough and strawberry jelly fills your mouth as you take a small bite. Soft country music fills the cabin and you stare out the window admiring the view, grateful John is waiting till you finish eating before questioning you again.  You finish the donut quickly wiping your hands with a napkin.

“We have about two hours until we get to the lake house,” you tell John slipping off your boots putting your legs on the dash.

“Not happening doll,” he says swatting at your legs.

You laugh, “Oh yeah totally not a truck guy,” you say sarcastically sitting cross-legged in the seat making yourself more comfortable. 

“That obvious, huh?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” you answer softly with a genuine smile staring at his profile.

He notices you staring and takes a deep breath. “Your dad called it a family reunion, but I got the sense it was only going to be the Lyding and Lodge’s. Is that right?” John asks.

“Yes. Those are the only families that count in my dad’s opinion. He calls it a reunion, because we forego holidays making this the only time the two families ever really come together. He is obsessed with the future of Lyding & Lodge Enterprises,” you tell John clenching your jaw.

Before you can dwell on it, John asks, “If it is just the two families, what do you typically do all weekend?” with a confused expression.  

“My parents pretty much sit around with Mr. and Mrs. Lyding talking about the glory days. You know, building the company from the ground up. There is always a dinner. That will be tonight. Shit, I forgot to tell you to pack something nice,” you say giving John an alarmed expression.

“I brought something,” he says unconcerned. “Tell me more about what you do during the day,” he says probing for more information.

“I haven’t been back in years,” you say sincerely taking another sip of water. “I honestly don’t know what David and Ashley do during the day. Valerie and I used to avoid them even as adults. They bickered constantly and would taunt each other into doing stupid things. It got worse when they discovered alcohol,” you say resentfully.

“I take walks and just explore. My dad hates it, but I usually avoid the lake since I am not a strong swimmer and the water is always so cold. The year David … the last time I was here David was trying to convince his dad to set up a trap shooting range,” you add.

“Do you know if he ever did it?” John asks.

“I am not sure,” you answer with a confused expression.

“Just curious,” John says quickly avoiding your gaze.

 _He is worried about David with a gun_ , you think to yourself.

“Is there anything else you think I should know?” John asks.

You bite your lip trying to remember. “The house sits on quite a bit of land. Ten acres I think. Mr. Lyding has at least one boat and direct access to a private lake,” you summarize.

“Damn, business must be good,” John says with a whistle.

Minutes pass in comfortable silence.

“They are going to try and undermine our relationship,” John says shattering the silence. “Probably put you in situations where you and David are alone. Those are the most dangerous. You should never be alone with him and if you are you need to leave immediately,” John says seriously

“I can’t just …” you begin.

“You can and you will. Your parents want you to marry David. Despite his visit to the bookstore, you probably don’t see him much. Both of your parents will be there, alcohol will be flowing and emotions will be high. We shouldn’t take any chances,” John says adamantly. 

“I am not trying to freak you out. I just … ,” he trails off.

“I get it,” you say ending the discussion.

“Good. Let’s cover our backstory,” John says changing the subject. You spend the next hour talking about the details of your relationship trying to incorporate as much of the truth as possible. Eventually when there is nothing left to talk about you close your eyes.

“Ronnie,” John says shaking you gently. Your eyes flutter open. You pull the blanket closer to you realizing it is John’s jacket. “Hmm,” you say closing your eyes nestling into the jacket that smells like him.

“Doll, I am sorry. We are almost there,” he says stroking your cheek.

“Damn,” you mutter putting your shoes back on, sitting up straight. You take a deep breath refusing to let your fear paralyze you.

John’s black monster truck pulls to a stop in front of the large house. He walks around the front opening the passenger door to help you down. He grabs your bags from the back and hoists them over his shoulder as you squeeze his hand.

“Ronnie, doll you are going to break my fingers,” John says through a clenched smile. You laugh like it is the funniest thing he has ever said easing your grip on his hand. As you walk up the steps the door opens, “Well there’s the happy couple,” your mom says cradling a glass of wine.

“Hi Mom,” you say giving her a quick peck on the check. “Mrs. Lodge,” John says greeting her. She leads the two of you inside to a large living room. Floor to wall ceilings offers an unobstructed view of the lake. The expansive room is furnished with an enormous coffee table buffered by large couches. Mr. and Mrs. Lyding sit on one couch, your dad on the other. 

He stands as you enter the room. “There’s my beautiful daughter,” he says approaching you giving you a hug. You eye his nearly empty glass of whiskey. “Hi Dad,” you say giving him a brittle smile. “You remember John,” you say motioning towards John.

“John. Yes. Your friend who came to dinner with us,” your dad says turning to shake John’s hand. 

“Boyfriend,” you clarify. 

“Well he isn’t really a boy is he?” your dad says turning back towards Mr. and Mrs. Lyding as they share a laugh.

Your eyes narrow.

 _Don’t do it, Ronnie. Don’t go there_ , you warn yourself.

“You’re right,” you say turning towards John eyes gleaming mischievously. “I guess there just comes a time when a girl decides she needs a man,” you say as you stand on your tiptoes kissing his lips softly. “We are going to go find our room,” you say not bothering a backwards glance before dragging him out of the living room.

You reach the second floor and look down the hall trying to remember which room you typically occupy.  After opening the door to a few sparsely furnished rooms, you find your guest bedroom. John sets your bags on the bed and closes the door inspecting the lock. You unzip your duffel bag rummaging through it avoiding John’s gaze. You didn't plan on playing the sex-crazed girlfriend in front of your parents. 

When you can no longer take the uncomfortable silence, you stop poking through your bag and look up at him. “John, I …” you start to say before he crosses the room and gently pushes you against the wall, his warm chest pressing you firmly into the wall as his lips run down your neck. “Someone’s coming,” he whispers.

Just as your knees are about to give out your dad opens the door to your room without knocking. “Ronnie, I .. oh! Excuse me,” he says closing the door awkwardly.  John walks over to the door and opens it standing in front of your dad.

“Mr. Lodge. What can I help you with?” John says enthusiastically with a grin.

“John, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t we go down to the deck and have a drink?” he says good-naturedly. 

“I would like that,” John says resting his arm on the door his wide shoulders encompassing most of the doorway.

“Let me just tell Ronnie,” he says gesturing back towards you.

“Have fun,” you say with a fake smile. 

John leans down to kiss your cheek. “Lock the door,” he whispers in your ear.

You watch the two of them walk down the hall before closing the door and locking it. You kick off your rubber boots and open the window carefully crawling onto the roof. Stargazing was always your favorite thing to do. When John asked what you did at the lake house you forgot to tell him or maybe you just couldn't remember. 

You slide the window closed and sit very still seconds before you hear your dad and John walk out onto the deck.


	15. Chapter 15

“I apologize for not knocking earlier. Ronnie is an adult, but it is hard not to still think of her as my little girl,” your dad says walking towards the bar.

 _I have never been your little girl_ , you think bitterly to yourself.

Glasses clink and your dad asks “Whiskey?” before you hear the loud thud of a bottle being placed on the counter.

“Please,” John responds politely.

The sound of liquid pouring is endless.

“I am sure you can understand our concern when Ronnie brought you to dinner and introduced you as her boyfriend,” your dad says in a serious tone.

You creep closer to the side trying to find a vantage point that will let you watch and remain unseen. The conversation lulls and you freeze.

“I care about Ronnie’s well-being and happiness,” John says succinctly refusing to explain his intentions.

Dread tugs at you as you pull your legs to your chest wishing you hadn’t come out here. Wishing you could sneak back inside undetected and not witness the rest of the conversation. 

“But do you love her?” your dad asks pointedly. Before John can answer your dad continues, “Listen, John, surely by now Ronnie has told you her mother and I want her to marry David. He has been in love with her for years. You wouldn’t want to stand in the way of that, would you?” your dad asks trying to guilt John.

Your hands begin to shake when you hear your dad tell John that David loves you. After your mother slapped you for telling her what you had seen you went directly to your dad. You have never seen him so angry and although he didn’t hit you his words left a gaping wound and a relationship that could never be repaired.

“Ronnie is old enough to make her own choices,” John says firmly. 

“An astute observation. You and Ronnie are both old enough to make your own choices, so let me give you a choice. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” your dad says unwaveringly.

“No,” John answers immediately.

He doesn’t ask whether the money is to break up with you or leave this instant. He doesn’t negotiate or pretend to consider it. He doesn’t offer an explanation. Just, no.

You breathing becomes shallow as you hear your dad say, “That’s a lot of money John,” condescendingly.

“Is that what she’s worth to you?” John asks angrily his composure slipping.

“Oh, I see. She’s got her hooks in you. She must take after her mother, that woman would do anything on her back,” your dad says with a laugh. “Come on, John. I have seen the two of you and trust me, I understand the appeal of a younger woman, but Ronnie is naïve. She just doesn’t know the way the world works yet,” your Dad says in a patronizing tone.

“Thank you for the drink Mr. Lodge,” John says setting his glass down.

You are distantly aware of the sliding door opening and closing. Minutes pass as you gaze numbly at the tranquil lake. Finally, the sliding door opens and closes again. With your dad back inside, you stand on the roof. Anger unleashes inside of you trickling through your bloodstream like poison.  It weighs heavy on your chest until you are breathing frantically. You flex your hands forming fists as you resist the urge to scream. Your dad genuinely believes David loves you and would marry you to him. He offered John a one hundred fifty thousand dollars to leave. His words trigger a lifetime of belittlement and shame.

_Silly Ronnie, just another princess at etiquette school perfecting her posture and learning place settings._

_Silly Ronnie, just an inexperienced teen who doesn’t understand that boys will be boys._

_Silly Ronnie, just another spoiled rich kid trying to prove she can make it without daddy’s help._

_Silly Ronnie, just a stuck up bitch who needs to learn her place,_ you think angrily.

 _Stop fighting it Ronnie. Give in,_ you tell yourself _.  
_

The sun begins to set over the lake and a gentle breeze tugs at your hair. Your eyes shine in excitement, the dreamlike beauty surrounding you at odds with the rage churning inside of you _. Time to get ready_ , you smile to yourself turning back towards the window.

You swing your legs over the ledge and hear a knock. You open it slowly before seeing John standing in front of the door. You smile at him weakly thinking about the money your dad offered him. “Ronnie,” he says locking the door behind him gently resting his hand on your waist. “I ran into your mom. She said dinner is in a few hours. Do you need anything?” he asks gazing at you with a look of concern.

“No, I am perfect,” you say tilting your head staring at him.

“I am going to take a quick nap. Why don’t you start getting ready?” he says kissing the top of your head.

“Okay,” you agree as you walk towards the bathroom.

You unpack your dress smoothing the wrinkles. It was a [silk white floor length dress](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/242631498652615956/) with a high waist, wide sleeves and plunging neckline. You shower, style your hair into beach waves and apply your makeup. As you hear John wake you walk into the bedroom. “White?” he asks. “Yeah,” you say uncertainly running your fingers over the smooth material. John showers while you sit in front of the vanity putting on your jewelry. You admire every bangle, every cuff and every ring before sliding them onto your hands. He comes out of the bathroom dressed in a navy suit and white button down shirt.

John walks over to you setting his hands on your shoulders. “Ronnie, after dinner we should probably talk about what your dad wanted,” he says with a grimace. You reach for an earring looking into the vanity mirror. “Okay John,” you say innocently while staring at your reflection. “Let’s go to dinner,” you say softly setting your hand on John’s upper arm.

The two of you make your way to the dining room. Unsurprisingly, everyone is already seated. You scan the table eyeing two seats at the very end of the table across from each other. One next to David and one next to Ashley. Concern flashes in John’s eyes when you purposefully make your way to the seat next to David. John holds your chair out for you taking his own seat after you are settled. As a server pours you a glass of wine, your mother interjects, “Veronica. Now that you are here we can formally introduce John to Mr. and Mrs. Lyding as well as Ashley,” she says attempting to embarrass you for the earlier display in the living room.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lyding,” you say in a light voice unruffled by your mother’s dig. “Ashley,” you smile brightly, “This is John Winchester,” you say graciously making the introductions and taking a small sip of wine.

“Your boyfriend, right?” David asks tauntingly from your left.

“Exactly,” you say smiling at him. David’s gaze dips leering at your chest, but you keep your back straight your eyes drilling into his.

You barely eat focusing on masking the simmering fury by appearing poised and graceful. John tries to engage you in conversation more than once, but you give short responses and avoid eye contact.

“Have you checked in on Cynthia and the bookstore?” your mother inquires. You stare at her sitting at the opposite end of the table.

“Sophia is fine,” you say vaguely not answering her question.

“Sophia …” David says as if searching his memory. “I remember Sophia! What a pleasant young lady or woman I should say. She has the most generous curves,” David says in lusty tone adjusting his pants in a disgusting gesture.

Your blood boils. You set your fork and knife down and rest your left hand on the table. John watches carefully as your right hand hovers just over your knife.

“You say the funniest things,” you tell David staring at him blankly.

Dinner comes to an end and your dad invites everyone to after dinner drinks on the deck, although it isn’t phrased as an invitation. You push your chair out and John is immediately at your side taking your arm. “Are you okay, Ronnie?” he asks staring at you intensely.

“I am fine,” you say resting your hand on his arm leading him to the deck. You and John sit on a couch near a stone fire pit. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. Your dad hands you a glass of sherry you didn't ask for.

“John, if you can tear yourself from our lovely Veronica, I’d like to show you the study,” David says standing in front of the two of you.

John sighs deeply. “Go,” you say squeezing his hand before he rises to follow David to the study.

You sit listening to the water lapping against the dock while your parents and the Lydings become more raucous. Sitting on the deck replaying the conversation between John and your dad makes your stomach turn and you decide to silently slip away.

You walk up the stairs slowly. As you reach the top you feel an arm clamp down over your chest. “Hey Ronnie,” David whispers pinning you against him. The bulge in his pants presses into your back. “Where is John,” you ask in an unnaturally calm voice not bothering to whisper. You heart begins to beat wildly in your chest. “John? Your boyfriend? That asshole is in the study, probably still waiting for me. How long till you think he figures it out?” David sniggers. Your blood hums pulsing loudly thrumming through your entire body. “Someone is going to hurt you, David,” you say evenly.

“Who? John? Be serious, Ronnie,” David says sliding his hand down your dress pinching your nipple roughly kneading your breast. His other hand lifts your skirt slinking towards your panties. You try and twist out of his grip but he shoves your underwear down. “That’s the Ronnie I remember,” he whispers in your ear. He keeps you clamped to him as he unbuttons his pants. You breathing is frenzied the need for violence stirring inside of you. The rage pulsates from deep in your chest every muscle is tense. You clench your jaw. “You are a rapist,” you say emotionlessly.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” he hisses as he spins you around and slaps you across the face. He digs his hands into your forearms his face red with anger and shame. “That’s what you told your parents, isn’t it? That I am a rapist?” he says throttling you shoving you towards the stairs. “That’s what you are and what you will always be,” you say tilting your head your eyes shining. He dangles you over the top step. “You are a pathetic rapist,” you say with a dangerous smile. “Shut up or I will shut you up,” David shouts as he shakes you. You clutch at his jacket to keep from topping backwards. “You think you are safe because John is here? I can do anything I want whenever I want,” he threatens.

In an instant rage, shame, despair and fear create a whirlwind inside of you. Every emotion rages with the intensity of a storm until you feel an eerie calm and realize you are the storm. “I tried to tell you David. Someone is going to hurt you,” you say softly before digging your fingers into his shirt and leaning backwards hurtling you both down the stairs.


	16. Chapter 16

Your eyes flutter open and you slowly realize you are in a bed. You are propped up in a sitting position with pillows behind you. Your eyelids are heavy as you glance down at your wrist and examine the elastic bandage.

“Ronnie?” John says softly stirring in the armchair next to your bed. He is still wearing his navy pants, his white shirt crumpled.

“Where is David?” you ask wincing as your voice echoes painfully in your skull.

“I don’t know and to be honest I don’t care. After I realized David dumped me in the study, I went looking for you. Your Mom and I found you barely conscious sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs. I thought you were dead. She had the balls to tell me you had too much to drink,” John says clenching his jaw. A sharp pain pierces your side as you take a ragged breath. “I bandaged your wrist. I think you sprained it. You might have fractured a few ribs. I gave you a painkiller. I only have a few left. You are going to feel worse tomorrow,” John says gazing at you.

“Ronnie what happened?” John asks stroking your jaw.

You flinch at his touch. “Is he dead?” you ask evenly.

“Damnit, Ronnie did you hear anything I just said?” John growls.

You rest your head back on the pillow letting the darkness and painkillers pull you under.

You wake the next morning to birds annoyingly chirping outside of your window. John is asleep in the armchair next to the bed. You notice the vanity chair jammed under the doorknob. Every step is agony, but you silently shuffle to the bathroom. You notice the pill bottle on the sink and take two more painkillers. You stare at your reflection. Your hair is tangled and a red bruise mars your cheek. You have dark circles under your eyes. As you eye the elastic bandage again you realize you aren’t wearing your dress. You lift the oversized plaid shirt grateful you are still wearing underwear and turn to the side to inspecting your torso. A deep purple bruise spans your ribcage.

“Ronnie?” you hear John call your name frantically.

“In the bathroom,” you say weakly still staring at the ugly bruise.

“Baby,” he says in a soft voice as you stare sadly at the discoloration encompassing most of your torso.

“We need to leave. You can sleep in the car,” John says entering the bathroom staring at your eyes.

“Can I shower?” you ask.

“No,” he shakes his head.

“John…” you say pleadingly.

“I will help you wash up, but we are leaving. As soon as possible,” he says grabbing a clean hand towel. He lowers the toilet seat and you grit your teeth as he helps you sit down. You turn sliding his shirt off of your shoulders. He lifts your hair and wipes the back of your neck. The warm water leaves damp trails down your skin. He wipes down your back and the back of your arms careful to avoid the bandage. He rewets the towel squeezing out the excess water. “Here,” he says handing you the towel. “I will find you a clean shirt,” he says exiting the bathroom leaving you to wipe down your neck and chest.

You dry your skin with a fluffy towel before he opens the door a crack and passes you another one of his clean plaid button downs. When you walk out of the bathroom you find both overnight bags on the bed. He tosses clothing items in the bags as you struggle to slide on fresh underwear and jeans. You are unconcerned about John being in the room while you change. His plaid shirt is practically a dress on you. You slide on your jeans and wince as they press against your bruise. You grab an oversized sweater and put it on one arm at a time. You glance at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair is wild and your clothes are five sizes too big but if you spend another minute in this house you may scream. John grabs the bags hoisting them over his shoulder and removing the chair jammed under the doorknob.

As he helps you down the stairs you hear your mother’s voice. “Ronnie?” she calls. You hear her heels click as she walks down the corridor. “You two aren’t leaving are you?” she asks completely oblivious to your condition. “Oh don’t look at me like that Ronnie. David told us what happened. He said he found you at the bottom of the stairs, thank God. He went to look for John. Luckily John and I found you first. You really shouldn’t drink so much. It’s unbecoming,” she says chastising you.

You shoot daggers at her with your eyes as your hands shake.

“At least come say bye to the Lydings,” she says before you can say a word.

“Mrs. Lodge…” John begins reaching for your arm, but before he can pull you back towards the door you are gripping your side walking down the corridor towards the dining room.

The entire Lyding family is seated at a large table sipping coffee and eating breakfast. You walk into the room and glare at David. “Ronnie! It is so good to see you up and out of bed. You had us worried,” he says standing from the table walking towards you as if to hug you.

Your heart beats like a drum vibrating deep in your chest at the sight of him. He is two feet away from you when you grab the front of his shirt and scream, “Liar!” shaking him violently.

“Ronnie!” John shouts grabbing you by the waist pulling you off your feet as you struggle against him.

“You bastard,” you say viciously ignoring the pain as you thrash against John intent on slapping David.

“BASTARD” you scream staring at David with hollow eyes.

“Veronica!” your mother screams.

“Ronnie” John shouts as you struggle against him.

“We are leaving. Now!” he says glaring at your parents before dragging you out of the house

John sits you in the car, buckles your seatbelt and slams the door. He tosses your bags in the back before peeling out of the driveway. “What the fuck was that, Ronnie?" John asks as he heads towards the interstate. You stare out the window your earlier rage subsiding leaving you numb. You don’t bother answering him. His movements are angry and his eyes burn furiously. “What happened last night?” he asks.

When you continue staring out the window watching the landscape pass he asks again. “Ronnie! What happened last night? I watched you all night there is no way you got drunk and fell. I should have never left you alone. We should have never even come,” he says frantically. You ignore him and close your eyes nestling into the plaid shirt and oversized sweater. The silence and warm cabin pulls you into a deep sleep.

An hour later you open your eyes blinking as you watch John talk into his cell phone.

“Yeah. I don’t know I can’t get a word out of her. Can you meet us at the apartment in an hour? I need to check on the bookstore. Thank you. I will see you soon,” he says with a sigh tossing his phone in the console.

He looks over at you noticing you are awake. “Ronnie, baby please say something,” he says pleadingly.

“I told you this is not a country western. Guns Blazing. John Wayne. Defending my honor. This isn’t a fairy tale. There are no princesses. No knight in shining armor. Slain dragons. There is no happy ending here. This is not a love story, John,” you say sadly before turning over and closing your eyes.


	17. Chapter 17

“Ronnie, we are here,” John’s says in an agitated tone. Your open your eyes immediately recognizing the underground parking garage in your apartment building.

John grabs the overnight bags and helps you down. You wrap your arms around his neck as he sets you gently on your feet. You shuffle into the elevator counting down the minutes until you can take a warm bath. As you turn the hall you see Sophia leaning against the door to your apartment.

“Hey gorgeous,” she says with a wink.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

“John asked me to come,” she says with a smile. “Don’t worry, I brought snacks,” she says grabbing the brown paper bag at her feet. John unlocks the door letting the two of you inside.

“I don’t really feel like company,” you say not even bothering to turn towards her.

“Ronnie two hours ago you lunged at David and you still won’t tell me what happened last night,” John says angrily.

“Oooh lunged. Did you get him?” Sophia asks.

John glares at her and she gives him an innocent look.

“I have to go check on the bookstore, so yeah Ronnie, Sophia is going to stay with you,” John says authoritatively.

“Mmm Daddy. Laying down the law,” Sophia mumbles.

“SOPHIA!” John shouts.

“Alright. Alright, I get it. Jesus. Maybe some space would do the two of you some good,” she says ushering John towards the door.

She closes it loudly behind him.

“Finally,” she says with a sigh.

“Alright, Ronnie check out what I brought,” she says unpacking the bag of groceries.

“Sophia, I would really rather not do this this,” you say pleadingly with your eyes closed holding back tears.

“I get it,” she says and you can feel her staring at you.

“You want to go shower, change, down a whole bottle of aspirin and sleep for a million years. Meet me halfway,” she says affectionately trying to pat down your tangled hair.

When you don’t respond she says, “I have macaroni and cheese,” softly.

You glare at her. “Shower, clothes, macaroni and cheese, and then sleep for a million years,” you respond.

“You got it boss,” she says saluting you before turning to continue unpacking the groceries.

You walk into your bathroom slipping off John’s button down. You consider asking Sophia for help drawing a bath, but you hear her humming happily in the kitchen. You sit trying not to twist your torso and turn the hot water faucet on drawing yourself a bath. As you lower yourself into the hot water your body immediately relaxes. You unwrap the elastic bandage around your wrist and soak blocking out every memory and thought.

As the water cools you finally lift yourself from the tub clenching your jaw. You wrap a towel around yourself and eye your selection of sweatpants. Instead you grab a shirt from John’s bag and slide it over your head. It ends around the middle of your thigh. You wrap your cardigan around you and slide on a pair of thick socks.

You walk into the kitchen and find Sophia serving huge bowls of macaroni and cheese while drinking red wine out of a mug.

“Wine?” she offers. “It’s delicious,” she says temptingly giving it a swirl.

“I have wine glasses. Why are you drinking it out of a mug?” you ask.

“It is cooler that way,” she says assuredly.

You roll your eyes. “Sure, I will have some wine,” you say slowly easing yourself onto a stool.

Sophia eyes you perceptively while handing you a coffee mug filled with wine.

“So good weekend?” she asks.

“Fabulous,” you say sarcastically. “Yours?” you ask.

“Hmm well I found out my girlfriend was not in fact visiting her parents, but her other girlfriend,” Sophia says taking a sip from her mug.

“I am sorry,” you say sincerely.

“Now you,” she says gazing at you.

“After we eat,” you say softly.

Sophia takes the bowls over to the sofa and the two of you sit eating huge portions of macaroni and cheese. You don’t ask but Sophia launches into the details of her breakup and the signs she refused to acknowledge. You listen grateful for the distraction.

You set your empty bowl down onto the table. “I am going to go to bed,” you say shortly.

“Ronnie …” Sophia begins.

“Talk to me. I am your best friend. We killed a werewolf. Don’t you remember how badass it was? I mean we kicked ass,” she says.

You can’t help but laugh as she imitates swinging a samurai sword.

“Sophia you were on the ground hyperventilating,” you tell her.

“Minor details Ronnie,” she says dismissively.

“You can’t use that werewolf thing forever you know," you say smiling sadly at her.

“I know, but I am worried about you and I think you should talk to someone and right now your options are me or John,” she says.

You nod with a sigh.

You clutch a pillow cushion staring at it unable to meet her gaze. “David tried to rape me. Again,” you tell her the words feeling awkward and shameful as they leave your mouth.

You stare at the pillow waiting for her response. Seconds tick by.

“So then you killed him then, yeah?” she asks nonchalantly.

You gaze at her wide eyed. “You didn’t kill him … you had John kill him … you fed him to wild dogs… no duh, you were at the lake you would have fed him to the fishes,” she says as if it were the most obvious answer.  

You give her an incredulous look shaking your head, “Do you take anything seriously?” you ask.

“As a rule, no, but Ronnie I am so sorry that happened to you,” she says holding your hands staring at you with a serious expression.

“I tried to throw him down a flight of stairs,” you say staring vacantly at the corner of your living room.

“When you tried to throw him down the stairs, did you also fling yourself down the stairs?” she asks with a concerned expression.

You nod silently.

“I see… and this morning?” she asks.

“When I saw him standing there just eating breakfast totally fine while my ribs are bruised to shit and my wrist hurts like hell … I snapped… John had to hold me back,” you tell her.

“Damn. That is one fucked up weekend,” she says staring at you.

“Yeah. Nothing screams family reunion like attempted murder,” you say sarcastically.

“So what do we do now?” she asks.

You take a deep breath. “I can’t live in the same city as David. I’ll sell the bookstore and move. I’ll see what I can do about making sure your job is secure,” you tell her realizing you are going to miss her more than you ever expected. 

“Don’t bother. I am going with you,” she says resolutely.

“Sophia, I could never ask you to do that,” you say staring at her.

“Shit, you are bossy. You didn’t ask and I didn’t offer. I am going with you,” she says the last sentence slowly as if you were a child.

Tears fill your eyes as you wrap your arms around her. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“I have to warn you selling the bookstore is going to be a little tricky with the installation John had put in,” she says cringing.

“I am sorry what?” you sharply.

“John asked me to go to the store Saturday morning. Not to open!” she says pre-empting your disapproval.

“He asked me to meet two of his friends and stay while they installed a panic room. It’s pretty sweet, well kind of. It’s kind of sweet. Well actually it is more like a closet with a camera and a panic button,” she says backtracking.

“Who did he send?” you ask suspiciously.

“Dean and this really hot old guy Bobby,” she says with a wink.

“You and …. Bobby?” you ask confused.

“What? You aren't the only with daddy issues,” she says.

“Sophia. No.” you say staring at her.

“Sophia. Yes.” she says nodding.

You stare at her in shock.

“Ronnie! I am just kidding. Jesus,” she says laughing.

“Oh thank God,” you begin to say.

“I hooked up with Dean,” she says with a smile.

You close your eyes.

“Is it always going to be like this?” you ask. _It is always going to be this insane and ridiculous_ , you think to yourself.  

“God, I hope so,” she says jumping up from the couch grabbing the wine bottle.

“Sophia …” you begin to say.

“Yeah?” she asks.

“You are just … amazing,” you say shaking your head.

“You’re pretty alright too boss,” she says with a smile.


	18. Chapter 18

You and Sophia spend the next hour planning your departure. _Running is easy_ , you think sadly to yourself. If Sophia is wondering why John isn’t included in your plans, she doesn’t ask. When you finally turn in for the night you offer to share the bed, but she declines insisting John will be home soon and should sleep in his own bed. You and Sophia have become closer than you ever expected, yet you haven’t told her the truth about John. You sit on the edge of your bed cell phone in hand trying to decide whether to text him. _What would I even say? Sorry I hurled myself down the stairs and you had to take care of me,_ you think darkly. You wince as you recall the last conversation the two of you had, setting your cell phone on the nightstand deciding space might be for the best.

It is almost two in the morning when John comes home. You hear shuffling in the bedroom and your heart stops beating. He switches the light on and you immediately recognize his salt and pepper beard and broad shoulders. Your heart resumes beating and you are grateful he woke you instead of trying slip into the room undetected. As your eyes adjust you notice his tired expression. He is still dressed in the same clothes and his shoulder sag. The mattress dips as he lowers himself onto the bed sitting, staring at nothing with a vacant expression. You sit up and ask, “John what’s wrong?” with a concerned tone, his despondency alarming.

“Can I tell you about the panic room?” he says abruptly.

“Of course,” you say unsure how the panic room relates to his troubled state. “Bobby and Dean took the spare storage closet and reinforced it with six inches of steel. It locks from the inside. There are three cameras in the backroom including one in the panic room. They are all live feeds. There are two emergency buttons. One in the panic room and one near the extra shelving in case you don’t make it to the room. When you press the button, it will notify me immediately no matter where I am,” he says.

“John, why wouldn’t the button notify the police?” you ask ominously.

“Because I am going to give you this and I am hoping you know how to use it,” he says removing a handgun from the waistband of his pants. “Have you ever shot a gun before?” he asks seriously.

“Yes,” you answer.

“Good. This is yours now. You keep it on you at all times. Not in your purse. On your person at all times, Ronnie,” John insists.

“John why are you telling me all of this?” you ask trying to hide the fear from your voice.

“I never told you how I became a hunter. A demon named Azazel killed my wife. I found her pinned to the ceiling while our house was engulfed in flames. The boys and I barely made it out. We have been hunting him since Mary died. We catch his trail and then he disappears sometimes for years. Dean found him. He is not far from here. I wanted to wait until you and Sophia left town. I am worried David will find out you are leaving and try some stupid shit. We can't wait though. Not when we are this close,” John says clenching his jaw. 

His expression softens as he scoops you up pulling you across his lap. You rest your head on his shoulder, gripping his shirt as your eyelashes flutter against his neck. “Ronnie. Leave tomorrow afternoon. Whether I am back or not,” he says.

“John. No,” you say firmly.

Your protests are useless and your chest aches. Either way one of you is going to leave. He was never going to stay.

“You know you have to doll,” John says with a weak smile tilting your face up towards his. He kisses your mouth tenderly at first before demandingly exploring your mouth as if it is the last time you will ever taste his lips. As if he wants it etched into your memory forever.

The next morning the actuality of you and Sophia leaving becomes real. You go see Carol first. Despite your fading bruise, she immediately notices silently gesturing to your face.

“It wasn’t John,” you say quickly.

“Of course it wasn’t,” she says in an admonishing tone.

“John is one of the good ones,” she says as she pours you hot tea. “The world needs more men like him,” she continues unaware of the glance you and Sophia exchange. Carol has always seemed uncomfortable around the opposite sex and you used to wonder whether she had her own share of bruises. You explain to Carol you need to sublet your apartment immediately and request her help. She stares at you for what feels like forever, and then agrees. She asks very few questions sticking strictly to business. Before you leave she pulls you into a long hug and you feel you feel your heart wrench realizing this will be the last time you see her.

The next stop is the apartment Sophia shares with her ex-girlfriend. John’s concern has you on edge and you hope it just looks like you are helping Sophia move out after a bad breakup.  Sophia fidgets in her seat the whole drive. As you park she says, “This is might get ugly Ronnie. You don’t have to come up,” in a serious tone. “Yes, I do,” you answer unbuckling your seat belt and opening the car door. You reassuringly squeeze Sophia’s hand in the elevator. She has become your best friend and you would never let her do this alone. She unlocks the door and you walk into a small eclectic studio apartment.

“I knew you would be back,” a tall redhead says with a sneer, her hands placed firmly on her hips. 

“I am just here to get my stuff Cheryl,” Sophia says

“Is this your new girlfriend?” she asks eyeing you up and down.  “Not much to look at,” she jabs.

You don’t respond trying to avoid engaging Cheryl in an argument. Instead you grab a duffel bag and hold it open for Sophia as she haphazardly crams clothes from a dresser drawer into the bag.

Enraged, Cheryl stalks over to Sophia, “I always knew you were pathetic. Everything was just a joke to you. Did you really think I was going to want to be with some loser forever?” she screams inches from her face. 

You quickly zip up the bag as Sophia grabs another duffel shoving shoes and personal effects inside. Cheryl knocks the bag out of her hands and personal effects scatter across the floor. Sophia collects them shoving them back into the bag before handing it to you. She opens a closet, smashes a handful of clothes together and lifts them all still on hangers hooking them over her shoulder.

“You’re wrong, Cheryl,” Sophia says in a dangerously soft voice. “I would have done anything for you, but you threw it away. I would have gone to hell and back for you,” she says her voice cracking. “But now you can just go to hell,” she finishes before making her way towards the door. As soon as you close the door you hear a loud crash followed by sobbing.

“Time to go,” Sophia says wiping her tears away shaking her head.

After loading Sophia’s clothes into the car, you grip the steering wheel. The last stop is the hardest and you have been trying not to think about it. As you pull up to a small café, Sophia squeezes your hand. “Remember. Fresh start. New adventures. It is going to be great,” she says excitedly and you are once again amazed at her resilience. 

You order a large coffee and slide into a corner booth where Rick is waiting. “Sophia told me you are selling the bookstore. I wouldn’t believe it, but here you are,” he says shaking his head in disbelief.

“Here I am,” you say uncomfortably smiling at him.

“Are you interested?” you ask taking a sip of coffee hoping you don’t sound overly eager.

“Absolutely. The location is great and word of mouth is really spreading. What are you going to do though? That bookstore is your life,” Rick says tilting his head gazing at you with a concerned expression.

“I need some time off. You know, recharge. Sophia and I are going to Colorado. I might like it out there. Who knows?” you say with a strained laugh.

“Ronnie…” Rick says taking your hand in his. You stare at him wondering what your life would be like if you had never been raped. If you had never discovered monsters exist. If you had a normal apple pie life. Would you end up with someone like Rick? He is a good man and will make someone very happy. Just not you.

“I know the bookstore is in good hands Rick,” you say with a smile as your heart shatters into a million sharp edges. “Just mail me the paperwork. We will make it official,” you say giving his hand a squeeze before sliding out of the booth.

And just like that your old life is gone. Neatly wrapped with a bow. No loose ends.


	19. Chapter 19

With the majority of Sophia’s belongings already loaded in your car, the two of you return to the apartment to pack your belongings. The sun has already started to set. _Leave tomorrow afternoon._ You close your eyes tightly replaying John’s words in your head as you shove clothes into a duffel bag.

“It is getting late. We should leave tomorrow morning. Fresh start,” you tell Sophia trying not to sound overly insistent.  

“Today was kind of rough,” she agrees. “Tomorrow morning. Fresh start,” she says with a smile unaware of your conversation with John.

You wash your face and brush your teeth preparing for bed. As you walk out of the bathroom, you find Sophia pulling back the comforter on your bed. You assume she noticed John’s hasty departure in the middle of the night and saves you from explaining that he isn’t coming home. You fluff your pillow and stare at Sophia’s profile as she climbs into bed before asking, “Do you think you will see Dean again?” trying not to think of John’s salt and pepper beard, the laugh lines around his eyes or the searing kiss you can still feel on your lips.

“I am not sure,” Sophia says honestly. “At first he was just a rebound, a distraction to keep me from thinking about all that shit with Cheryl. Then I realized that isn’t going away any time soon,” she says with a self-deprecating laugh.

“When he came to the bookstore to install the panic room with that guy Bobby, it was like two sides of the same coin. One minute he is flirting and making me laugh so hard I am practically crying and the next he is in total hunter mode talking about reinforced steel and panic buttons. All for a woman he doesn’t even know,” she says in a confused tone.

A sharp stabbing pain pierces your heart as you remember John suffering through dinner with your parents, turning down your dad's money and ushering you away from the lake house as quickly as possible. _All for a woman he barely knows_ , you think sadly to yourself. 

“Sophia. John and I aren’t in a relationship. I caught him trying to break into the Lamberti’s apartment and convinced him to be my boyfriend. He is on a hunt right now tracking down the demon that killed his wife,” you confess your voice breaking.

Minutes pass in a silence that feels endless.

“Ronnie….” she begins in a cautionary tone. 

“I know. I am trying to keep it together, but everything hurts. Inside and out. It was a stupid plan,” a light laugh escaping your lips as tears slip out.

Sophia pulls you into her arms rubbing your back, your tears soaking her t-shirt. “It wasn’t a stupid plan. It isn’t like there is a manual on how to deal with this shit. We are going to leave this town. There is so much to see and do, Ronnie. There is so much out there. You just have to be alive to experience it though,” she says wiping your tears away with her thumbs giving you a wary smile.   

“Mrs. Lamberti used to tell me I could do anything and be anything I wanted. God, I miss them both. I would give anything to hear Mr. Lamberti say ‘chin up’ one more time,” you say softly with a sniffle.

“He used to tell you that all the time. He even wrote it on the first twenty-dollar bill the bookstore ever made,” she says distantly as if evoking the memory.  

“Sophia. We have to stop at the bookstore tomorrow,” you tell her with an urgent tone gripping her shoulders.

“Ronnie …” Sophia begins.

“I had that twenty-dollar bill framed. Please. It will just take a second,” you beg.

“Alright. On our way out of town. No other stops,” Sophia says firmly.

“No other stops,” you agree.

“Now go to bed,” she says.

“Alright, boss,” you say with a weak smile turning your pillow over settling into the covers.

Early the next morning the two of you wake and dress quickly. You check the apartment ensuring you packed everything, silently giving thanks for Carol. You are confident she will use discretion when finding someone to sublet the apartment. You take one last look at your sanctuary before locking the door and dropping the keys in an envelope and sliding them under Carol’s door. Traffic is light and in minutes you arrive at the bookstore. Sophia parks the car and the two of you walk towards the bookstore. You unlock the door and push away the countless memories of opening with Sophia. They belong to the past. Sophia locks the door behind the two of you as you head towards the back.

“I hung it in the office,” you shout your voice sounding discordant in the empty store.

Sophia follows you to the backroom. You grab the stepstool admiring framed twenty-dollar bill as you hear Sophia say, “Ronnie, there is broken gla—” before stopping midsentence. 

You turn around and find Sophia struggling against David a box cutter dangerously close to her face.

“Hi Ronnie” he says with a smile.

Hate unfurls inside of you like a wisp of smoke. “Let her go,” you say firmly not recognizing the sound of your own voice.

“I don’t think so,” he says rubbing his cheek against the side of her face as she tries to free herself from his iron grip.

“Let her go!” you shout. 

“If you insist,” he says pulling the box cutter away from her face, before suddenly grabbing her by the back of the head and slamming her into the wall. She crumples to the floor. David brandishes the box cutter again forcing you to back into the corner. 

“I have to hand it to you Ronnie. Leaving town, that is a smart move. You almost made it too. I knew you would be back for that twenty-dollar bill. You always were overly attached to the Lamberti’s. Chin up. What a crock of shit. You are worthless Ronnie. You can’t even leave town without fucking it up,” he says mockingly. “And now you are going to take your clothes off and we are going to finish what we started at the lake house, or I am going to use this box cutter on your pretty little friend. I tried to tell you. I can do anything I want whenever I want,” he says his eyes gleaming dangerously as he ogles Sophia’s unconscious form.

Next to Sophia’s head blood begins to pool. Your heart pounds in your chest. Your breathing becomes shallow. The world slows as you remove the handgun tucked into the back of your jeans.

“No,” you respond raising the gun pointing it at David.

“A gun! Did John give that to you? Is it even loaded? We both know you aren’t going to use it,” he laughs box cutter still raised. “Now take your clothes off. Now,” he shouts his face turning a dark red. 

The wisp of hate spreads like poison permeating every cell of your body. It screams in your ears thirsting for blood. It reverberates inside of you leaving you crawling out of your skin. It pulsates inside of you demanding revenge.

“You did this. You did all of this,” you shout as you remove the safety. “You ruined everything. My work. My whole life,” you scream aiming at David’s head. Your eyes dart between David and Sophia. Visions of Maria and Steve’s lifeless bodies swim in front of you as the gun sways.

 _You are better than this Ronnie. Don’t let him turn you into a monster_ , a voice whispers.

You scream as anguish unleashes inside of you and you squeeze the trigger.


	20. Chapter 20

John and Dean sit in the cabin of the black truck anxiously waiting. For what, neither of them knows. They each imagined killing Azazel hundreds of times. For John, it was every day since Mary died. Now Azazel is gone and never coming back and the definiteness of it is a feeling they only dreamed of, the closure a fantasy, because regardless of whether Azazel lives or dies Mary is gone.

The silence stretches on as they sit lost in their own thoughts.

John clears his throat. “Dean, Bobby and I are going to make that security consulting deal a real thing,” John says staring out at the abandoned cabin.

“So you’re done then?” he asks anger flicking in his eyes.

“I am too old to keep doing this,” John says rubbing his hand over his mouth. “I have a partner for you though,” he says glancing at Dean’s irritated profile.

“Dad we both know Sammy isn’t going to drop out of law school,” Dean says bitterly.

“I wasn’t talking about Sam,” John says shaking his head.

“Who then?” Dean asks with a defensive glare.

“Sophia,” John says in a neutral tone.

“Are you having a stroke?” Dean asks mockingly giving his father an incredulous look.

“Sophia is brave. She killed a werewolf without hesitating. She is loyal too. Do you know what she is doing right now? She and Ronnie are heading to god-knows-where to get away from that psycho. A week ago they were co-workers, but I bet you there was no way Sophia was going to let Ronnie leave town alone. She is a lot, I won’t deny it, but she would make a damn good hunter. Plus, she is ready. She knows what’s out there. What are the odds she is going back to that normal apple pie life? Do you think that is the kind of person she is?” John asks.  

“Damnit…” Dean says with a pensive expression.

John takes one last look at the abandoned cabin ready to peel out of the driveway when his cell phone begins chirping incessantly.

“What is that?” Dean asks.

“Shit. Shit Shit.” John says pulling his phone out.

“Hand me that tablet,” John says frantically.

“Dad, what’s going on?” Dean asks.

“Dean! Now!” John shouts.

As Dean passes John the tablet he unlocks the screen and three different video feeds of the bookstore pop up, each one a different angle of David holding a box cutter to Sophia’s face while shouting.  

“Call the police,” he tells Dean as he shifts gears.

“The cops? Are you sure?” Dean asks digging his cell phone out of his jacket.

“I have already almost gotten her killed twice. I am not taking any chances,” John says speeding out of the driveway as gravel spits out from tires.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” the operator answers.

“There is a man brandishing a box cutter at two women at Veronica’s Books on sixth. He is going to kill them,” Dean says succinctly.

John speeds down the highway praying you have the gun he gave you.

xxx

The shot is deafening. David drops the box cutter falling to the ground grasping his leg and writhing in agony.

“You shot me. You stupid fucking bitch. You shot me in the leg,” he yells.

You holster your gun and grab the box cutter cutting away at his pant leg.

“Stop moving,” you glare at him box cutter in hand. He stops thrashing and you are able to cut his pant leg off. You rip it into strips and tie it tightly above the bullet hole. Your hands shake as you tighten it glancing at Sophia’s unconscious form.

Once the tourniquet is fastened you slide the box cutter across the room and scramble over to Sophia.

“Sophia. Sophia, please wake up,” you say trying to determine if she is breathing. “This isn’t happening,” you grit your teeth as tears begin to stream down your cheeks. You press your ear to her back trying to hear a heartbeat or detect the rise and fall of her chest. Nothing. You grip the back of her shirt crying.

The police enter the front of the bookstore noiselessly with weapons drawn. When they find you sobbing over Sophia and David on the floor with a homemade tourniquet, they immediately holster their weapons. From the floor you see officers shuffling around the room. You can distantly hear one of them calling for an ambulance. Minutes later two first responders are crouched down trying to detach you from Sophia. You can see their mouths moving, but you can’t understand what they are saying. Everything is muffled and slow.

You are standing in front of two police officers. One of them is trying to talk to you. His mouth moves, stops and then frowns when you don’t respond. It is like being underwater. Everything is garbled and all you can do is watch as they wheel Sophia out of the bookstore on a gurney.

The world snaps into focus when you hear John.

“RONNIE?” he shouts from somewhere in the front. He bursts into the back and scoops you up as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

“It’s okay baby. It’s okay,” he whispers in your ear soothingly gripping you tight.  

“Sir, I am going to need a formal statement from Miss Lodge,” the police officer says.

“Is that really necessary? There are three security cameras in this room with audio and video. I am surprised you didn’t notice it when you inspected the crime scene,” John says angrily motioning towards the three cameras.

The police officer sighs deeply. “I will need a formal statement from Miss Lodge eventually, but for now you can take her home while we review the footage,” he says.

John pulls you tightly to his side as you walk out the front of the bookstore. “I thought you were with Dean,” you ask confused.

“He sped off when he heard about Sophia. We will meet him at the hospital,” John says helping you into the truck. He closes the door and walks over to the driver’s side. You succumb to a fresh round of sobs with your face in your hands.

John drops you off at the entrance and you run through the hospital to the emergency room. You spot Dean. He is wearing a plaid button down, khaki coat, jeans and work boots. He has the same tanned skin and electric green eyes you saw on John’s phone, but this time they are clouded with concern.

“Dean,” you say urgently grabbing his arm.

“She doesn’t have internal bleeding. They don’t need to operate. They are stitching her up and will know more when she wakes up,” he says. He pulls you into a hug and you feel the sharp stab of guilt.

The three of you sit in the waiting room. Dean drifts off as you rest your head on John’s shoulder. There is so much to talk about, but everything can wait.

“Miss Lodge?” a doctor with glasses, a stark white overcoat and a clipboard asks.

“Yes!” you say rushing over to him John and Dean at your side.

“Sophia is awake. You can see her now,” he says gesturing to a nurse.

The nurse quickly leads the three of you to Sophia’s room. You ease it open and find her sitting in a hideous hospital gown with a large piece of gauze affixed to her head.  You barely make it to her side before wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Hey boss,” she says as happy tears rush down your face. Her voice is like music to your ears.  

“I thought I almost got you killed. Again,” you tell her with a frantic laugh.

“Nope. Still alive,” she says with a wink.

“Unless this is heaven… but to be honest I thought everyone would be wearing less clothes…” she says gazing around the room suspiciously. 

As you laugh cupping her face you tell her “I love you,” smiling at her.

“I know,” she responds brightly before dragging her eyes over to Dean pressing her lips into a thin anxious line.

“Come on, Ronnie,” John says. “Let’s give them a minute,” he says tugging at your hand.

“I will be right outside,” you tell her.

“And I will be right here,” she says sarcastically gesturing to the bed and IV she is connected to rendering her immobile.

You and John exit the hospital room. You wrap your arms around his chest. With no more tears left you inhale his scent and relax against his warm body. You swallow trying to mentally prepare yourself for the conversation you have been putting off. You detach yourself from his arms.

“You didn’t leave yesterday,” John says softly.

You shake your head. “I went back for something at the bookstore,” you say avoiding his gaze.

“Did you get him?” you ask pulling your eyes towards his feeling slightly numb.

“We did,” John says a shimmer of relief in his eyes.

“Ronnie, Dean is going to ask Sophia to hunt with him,” John says staring at you.

“What about you?” you ask. “Are the three of you going to hunt together?” you ask with a confused expression.

“No. I talked to Bobby before Dean and I left. We are going to give the security consulting thing a real go. No more day-to-day,” he says with a sigh.

“I see,” you say not really understanding at all.

“Ronnie, you told me this isn’t a love story,” John says clenching his jaw.

You open your mouth to interrupt. “Let me finish, please,” he says.

“You told me this isn’t a love story. You told me I didn’t get to come in here guns blazing John Wayne style. You said I wasn’t your knight in shining armor and you were right. Ronnie, in case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t done a damn thing to save you. You and Sophia killed that werewolf. You stopped David at the lake house and when he confronted you at the bookstore you put him down. You shut that shit down, Ronnie. This wasn’t a love story, not for you, but it was for me. I fell in love with you the minute you jumped into my arms. I fell in love with you when you thought the Lamberti’s owed me money and tried to pay their debt. I fell in love with you when you made me chicken piccata. I fell in love with you when I realized you are bossy as hell. When you dressed me down and told me I was going to take your parents’ shit. I was in love with you when went to that fundraiser and my heart damn near stopped when I thought of you down there with that werewolf. I knew I was in deep when I didn’t hesitate when your dad offered me one hundred fifty thousand dollars to walk away and I didn’t even blink. Shit hit the fan, but you don’t need me anymore, Ronnie. Azazel is dead and with Dean and Sophia hunting, for the first time I am finding myself with nowhere to be at the moment,” he says trailing off staring down the hall.

“You could stay…” you say hesitantly as tears fill your eyes remembering the first time you asked John to stay. You were in your apartment. He had just accused you of being a black widow child bride and you had no idea what you were doing, but you were doing it anyway. 

He cups your chin nuzzling the side of your face.

“Will you make me chicken piccata every night?” he says.

“Every night,” you smile.

“Can we tell your parents to go to hell?” he asks.

“I insist,” you laugh softly.

“Do you think you could still be my doll while wearing that crown?” he asks.

You rub your lips along his jaw. “I can do anything John,” you whisper in his ear with a smile before his lips crush against your demandingly.

_And they lived happily ever after._


End file.
